Why did the storm blow away my soul,
that all my tears fell upon the evil soil,
in such that every thought in my heart digs all moments prior to the storm,
yet as I move on my heart bleeds for the hands to be turned back way before the gliding dome,
why did the storm come and blow away my happiness?
that now I play a guitar with very much less kindness,
never believed it will be over in a span,
but the pain is still boiling in the poetics of my pen,
why did the storm come to blow away my joy,
that I travell but never reach the vague of any troy,
rejection took part in the healing,
but forgiveness was not allowed a room in forgeting,
pulling such a stunt was successful enough to mourn my defeat,
and lead me to bow by my knees and release my innocent feet,
I guess i'll never know why did the storm hurt me,
that is good as well my friend! ! ! you are very skilled! ! ! !
Yes, my friend, the pain is definately still boiling in the poetics of your pen... You've penned it down well, though. But there's always a rainbow after the storm, yes?
Poem is an inspirational touch, which touches life and society. Please the poetic inspiration burning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A reflecting pice. The poetics of your pen is truly reflecting. Great poetry, bro.