Sowed a seed, let it grow.
T'was tendered, let it bloom.
Time passed, covered with sorrow.
Burnt in the sun, a mark of gloom.
Disowned, it lay there weary.
That which was once deary.
Trampled and squashed,
bled and dead.
Amidst distress it fell back.
Engulfed by weeds, lost in darkness.
Tears wet the soil, knew it had to pack.
With memories and wounds of a past fondness.
Should it rise? should it fall?
Is it wise? to go by gall.
Let it settle and not nestle.
Let it be and it will let you be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem