A stoic
Between coming and going
There is left
The pain, given by you
It brings shower
I keep my face out of window
I watch the sorrow
I breathe the pity
I nibble them bit by bit
And laugh as if a matter of cherishing
Between coming and going
I gradually become weak
I lose myself
And time comes and goes
Evening - night - sleep
And pray for enormous darkness
That ne'er comes and
I again become a pain myself
Now you may call me a stoic!
The song of life sometimes full of despair with marginal hopes beautifully presented. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sueprbly written- Between coming and going I gradually become weak I lose myself//// O' yeah I can't control I stay indifferent in well and woe all are friends, all are foe! how wonderful RUE! /// superb STOIC