Deep pain gnaws him
He finds himself in a
morbid state of mind
Difficult to grapple
With his perilous predicament
Losing his beloved
Whom he loved so much
He seeks solace in solitude
The landscape of his life
Is now drab and colorless
He feels being
Slowly mauled by sadness
Always on the move
Like a recluse
Lumbering in a desolate
Torrid desert, his
Hair disheveled
Unkempt face
like a mendicant
Even a sign of good hope
Seems a distant dream for him
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great description you have here. I do not want to be a recluse. lol