The playground is forlorn
The player a grieving loner,
Games were battles; they decided my fate!
One after another, every defeat
Were stepping stones to vacuum!
Life, with its broken garlands
And glasses drained out of love,
Once again comes to welcome me
And wish me good morning,
Mornings are always good, I say!
Alone in the tower of dreams
Against the vast, vast horizon
Overcast with clouds of words,
Weaving the dream I have loved ever
Waiting for the shower I have loved ever...!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Weaving the dream I have loved ever Waiting for the shower I have loved ever...! Outstanding poetic skills displayed here.10./10 again. Do read my Stiletto-Tanka page-2 poem-38.