A virtual reality runs slowly
In my over-trodden heart
No more agonies make me happy now
That I enjoyed in the past.
Like a flock of homecoming birds
Milky melancholies run
Bending downwards droop, stoop and
Get their port at last.
Doleful dismal sadness vast
I have in my wounded heart
Nothing remains
Not even dizziness mark
But a heap of only sparkling dark.
Cockroach corpus ant or lizard
Nobody gets wet near or far
That a silent cry
Doesn’t have any single drop of tear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem