April a marred bliss
that brought my fortune.
Most days full of thorns,
Thither and hither a thorn.
The thorn prick and i bleed.
Unusual a month as this,
with grieve and much pain.
April, in all these, glory shone.
Just like that night
I slept and am awake.
I sought for it...
And i found it no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem