WHAT DO I HAVE TO MEND?
FROM MY POETRY BOOK THE CANVAS OF MY SOUL: THE HUES OF MY PALETTE BY ANAHIT ARUSTAMYAN
AVAILABLE ON AMAZON
My pillow is both soft and hard under my head.
Who knows why my mind has knitted a sail?
The sail is torn though I mend it in each rising day.
I put the huge sail on my small pillow to wait.
My worn out pillow just keeps the moon's shade.
The moon is afar with its fairy tale.
What do I have to mend my pillow, my sail or even the rain?
The rain cries on my umbrella and reaches my face.
My pillow is probably my white sail.
It never floats on the seas as its holes aren't mended yet.
What do I have to mend, my pillow, my umbrella or the rain?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem