O my days long, hope blows in like sudden gust,
The sun dissents to depart at the gloomy west,
Time so lame and seconds longer,
Counting on every single knock of heart,
Echoing from a thousand hills of despair.
But life still hangs, as a spider does on broken dream-webs,
Unwoven by some careless hand, smashed life-hubs,
Lost in the unhappy end of another marvel,
Yet he restarts, driven by the thirst for survival,
And the dream of living whole of a day...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The longing a beautiful poem and ideas and interested much.