No space for my face to hide the ugly
scars and wrinkles, the dear ones departed leaving me
on my legs hurting from years...
Lord! I need a space to rejoice my past and
to smile for a while, where I can see my wounds of my palm
and to rest under shade...
No human is benevolent, my hunger lead from yards to years;
no blank space to rest for whole but to sojourn from somewhere to everywhere...
The past is lost, even smiles and
let there be no ethical dilemma for you to pull me up;
let your heart be profound to my wish, let earth pack me!
This is a prayer full of pain - But Lord will kess away your every tear and lift you up!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A realistic poem Bharath