Drowsy drooping dawn.
Lurking in air,
Smell of dead slumber,
Taste of a sad sleep.
Ah! But my eyes don’t bleed!
Nor do they sleep...
A dull
Dim lit sky
With specks,
Dotted dirty!
Sullen trees,
Through them yawning
Gushes of wind.
Bare, black branches,
Nude and ugly forms.
Dark, dusty figs—All!
Surreptitiously sighing!
A deserted street,
Lying by it
Cold relics of happiness
And obnoxious tombs,
Dark and graceless.
Amidst them all, there,
The debris of my heart.
Sees it,
My eyes,
Tired and dried.
But they can’t bleed.
Ah! my eyes can’t bleed,
Nor can they sleep...
Echoes on thus,
The sinister moans
Of a dying crow...
The plague intermits not!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem