Before I perish into dust-
I look again in the sun
Hoping the angst has quieten down
I look, hopeful for the warmth-
I gaze through the gape
For the stars- buried in the deep
In the darkness, I gaze, hopeful for a glitter
And the panes all agape
That a genteel breeze may come
Come in between the storm-
To touch, soothe-
I look, that my eyes- captive in blur
May yet leap an art, a painting in the blur
I hearken, to hear a tune in the noises
I hold, clenching them- my possessions
One, then one, then other till last
Searching for a memory-
Hoping remnant memories remain in one
Or the bliss, a shadow of, to swiftly pass
I take the chalices again-
From which I'd gulp love, victory
I dwelled in the rust -expired gold
The new paints, the dust, the webs
As I put the wine, a sweat from my eye too
I gulp- as I sleep, facing the wall
Clasping rot, a less worse- to the dust
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem