of box and pen,
wonder won,
death we smile at,
why cant i cry for thee,
is this the end?
fire embers burn there too,
it was either the pen or the vien,
to dull out this pain,
pray my soul,
to take cause when i die everything go blank and all black,
i suddenly had a thought i was going to die,
then everything became all right with the world,
what a terminal illness tears can be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem