the bitter twang of the tea
brewed for half an hour
stirred and bubbled enough
to a muddy tawny texture
coats the tongue
stains the teeth
and the cup in which it sits
the after taste of lost expectations
a rudderless life
an arrow that missed
a desire that remained unfulfilled
a sense of loss
and
a realisation of never being able to make up
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem