To my right a youth
amidst bubbles of dream.
Rays of hope and promise
made his face gleam.
To my left on ruins of dream
sat a man tired and old.
Face marked with lines
of pain and suffering untold.
Who were they?
as if I know,
my stressed mind
cannot recall, though.
I think through windows
of time, I saw another me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem