Nonchalance ever astonishes me
I have been thrown into the roaring ocean of emotions
And sunk into the ghastly abyss of distress
Now the well of delirium has been exhausted
I no longer possess the strength to drown in tides of lava
Licked by the flame of ardour
Cremated into ashes
Sacrificed to fertilize the scarlet poppy blossom of passion
Relieved in a sigh
All has ebbed away
The train keeps moving
To the unknown destination
Careless of scenes passing by
Reluctantly doubting
Out there is the wasteland
I am too frightened to jump off and too consumed to reclaim
So here I sit, among the scattering pieces of maimed past
Each grins a reflection of my own
Cheek cupped in the palm, pallid, drained, hollowed.
In sedative boredom I sit
Morbid curiosity
Nothing ever be done...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem