An old man sat in the park,
leaning,
A young man jogging he saw
leaning,
tiredness, satisfaction or safety?
Leaning against the wall?
Where to lean - the heart?
The young child has leaned for-ever
There goes the procession
The one who leads
sounding the death-knell
stumblingly proceeds forward.
The bony legs and sagging skin
The while beard and protruding veins
disallowing him to Lean.
The stumbling, struggling heart
prays for the young soul
to lean in heaven forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem