O forlorn beauty!
Neglected is your pretty face,
You lie upon the ground so cold;
Like fishes frozen in crystal lake;
Like leaves still clinging to trees, against the winters chill,
Upon the frozen stone you lie,
Breathing your last wishing you had a chance to live
Animals stir by,
Leaves fly,
But still you lie...
Until the time 'came stale,
When your face grew pale,
The vultures were gloating -
Your heart had stopped beating.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem