Despairs awoke my body’s chiming clock
And my eyes are covered with a black smoke
Heavy load of burden was on my back
And on my neck was an inspiring yoke
Music of my night was a scary chant
And my deep sleep was filled with a bad dream
The thought was there’s a thing I need to trim
The dawn, of loneliness laid on dark month
But after it was a colorful weeks
There are sweet songs of joy my ears shall hear
Mine hands shall feel and touch the happy year
My tears will no longer fall on my cheeks
There will be a rainbow colored with grace
Such a calendar of beautiful days.
We are all looking forward to beautiful days in England. (Thanks for spelling correction.I did juggle with the two words myself)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Marc, I like your poem immensely. The last two lines are perfection. The poem is relatable throughout, but it was still blazingly original in your choice of metaphor. I like the way you return to the calendar in the very last line.