Among my souvenirs are the dismal affairs
Spent in dreary nights and weary days.
Stars in the night fly high as a kite,
Amidst the silver streams of moonlight.
Time galloping past festivities that will not last,
Longer than the briefest momentum,
Carrying fear in our hearts shrouded and outcast,
Waiting for relief with another celebration to come.
The Harbinger of pleasure in the pursuit of fun,
Age on the run, powerful entity in a world crumbling.
Our participation is climate transformation
And the illusiveness of dreams is lost in our being.
Among the souvenirs, climbing the heavenly stairs,
Memories I carry through a heavy cloud of tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem