Walking into depths of pity, looking around, touching
it's body, getting a feel of it's destiny in life's
program.
Watching it squeeze tears of sadness for a self of
thoughts, alone on a shelf of self-sorrow, inter-
twined with a reality of sorts.
Not able to disentangle from inner realms, folds
upon itself, wringing it's hands in self-absorbed
grief, not noticing that others are worse off than
themselves.
Missing many opportunities to break out of their
shells of self-deceit and live life on happier shores
in decent fashion with others around them and along
pathways through life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem