What is a fifty-year journey?
It's like a train of life running fast
Stopped at fifty stations
Many do not even remember
It just so happened that at every stop
The baggage went up.
Now that the shackles have reached the throat
So I had to think
That I had to get off at any of the next stations
The burden of sex will be lost
And what will be left with the goods?
The limit has been reached.
No matter how useless life is
And why not pass in vain
The bells of return began to be heard
So the dust of sadness and despair
It clings to the feet like
Borrowing a few breaths
Don't know greatness and success
Which Mount Everest can be climbed?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Life and the running train of time bosom friends no stoppage in pace of both Fifty years- the running train of age in every layer of the veins it found many and passed all, now in the grey dust of the years…….on this theme your poem is impressive; pleasurable to read