Like lightening to a bug, my world is transformed into
another place.
Life is worn inside out, filled with doubt and
insecurity.
How can life go on in a trench so deep and mired with
sadness?
So quiet, so gently, everything turned around and no
more feeling was felt.
Away from it all to a deserted isle within, hidden
from all, attempting to follow heart's desires.
Silently waiting for forlorn music to end this sympathy
symphony held daily within.
Taking notice of images, always standing within reach,
contemplating their worth when life is done.
All is lost, there is no more to work with.
Life has ended on this quiet, forlorn afternoon.
And no one is the wiser for it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem