It was an empty forlorn lot
no focal point to rest
the eye and take a closer look
by nature to be blessed
Harsh shadows crept from hidden nooks
as clearings had been turned
by sun and dust and searing heat
to nought as weeds soon burned
The grass had burned and burned and burned
as time pressed slowly by
gray sand and broken glass remained
ignored by passersby
There was no pathway for a trek
to walk across this plot
no branch or bush popped out to say
touch me, forget me not
The few that wandered past this place
would move without delay
they'd flee to greener, softer scenes
where no harsh shadows played
The weary shacks beyond this span
were like an arm that's cut
small amputated wooden boards
where only rats would squat
This lot drew out all strength and hope
from those who'd stop and sit
no optimistic soul would say
lets fix this up a bit
Those who may wonder where the wind
or stormy clouds descend
may never see the place of doom
where all that's hopeless ends
All boundaries and rules of law
lose meaning in this field
illusions and fair hopes of man
to shrouds of pathos yield.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sad piece, well written, Liilia!