Walking desolate
With all errand dove within
Pent up smears,
Minding not snares
Though, turned delicacy
In fierce menagerie.
Filling up trenches to bridge,
Seaming the torn to survive
To save the fading from totally broken
Which may atleast bloom into better ending.
The heart has long been forgotten,
The affection, a no longer unison;
Because, the angels in hell
Drive you to heaven in pyre,
But only to retire you with hoarse lyre.
Look back, be reminded of love,
You left behind by glitters of gold
Along with clubs of dark might
Which lured one from good insight
Blinded by heartless fright.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem