A maniac man
Locking and re-locking
The box.
A lone man
Going on the way
And babbling to himself.
Going on the way,
Doing the self-talk,
A strange tryst with destiny.
Destiny’s lone child,
How disturbed and broken is he,
A man of split personality!
He himself the talker,
He himself the listener,
How emotionally disturbed is he!
A poor fellow laden under
The load of life,
Talking and going on the way all alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem