At last I am free from my deep inhibition
Not the way I had played in my mind
For my hopes transcend worldly possession
More like deja vu conceived
In fear and constrained imagination
Now the wandering possibility is ruined
silent truce overruled as childish obsession
Like atheist who had once believed
In all the subtle sweetness of grace and divine perfection
Now only retell of the road untaken
Colors turn grey and outline melt into crude rendition
The spell is broken and the angel has fallen
Far away into another’s garden of Eden
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Now the wandering possibility is ruined This happens, this is not the end of life!