Past the point of thinking of
rubbing my broken dreams' dust
on the face of tomorrow's sun
Tired of wailing and weary of being tired
sliently looking across the mirror
of my fears to find myself in me
Remained in the clouds of wandering dust
embraced challenges of time by
swallowing my doubts of darkness
Engraving my name on his grave
putting out the lamp of worries
away from his ways through burning myself
Leaden with the weight of imperfect dreams
brewing new hopes to lighten the day's end
with perfect instincts of desires
Colouring days golden and night oceanic of hue
drew fantasies into lively fireflies
welcoming you to the world Nomansland
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem