The sound was too much. There was
Not a soul to shed a single drop of
Tear. She died slowly like a beaten
Lizard. Twisting and turning in her
Tattered bed. Bedbugs have left her
Bloodless. Bones cracked as she
Turned sides to catch glimpses of
Faces who smiled at her. May be
Forced to. A story is going to be
Concluded that was read for full
Ninety years without a pause.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem