Twisted and gnarled he sat
Waiting for the end
Waiting for the sound of a gat
Bang! This time it missed-
Hopefully next time it won’t.
Haggard and crippled he crawled
Looking for the place he was before,
But that world was gone
Home, and with it innocence far behind-
He would die here in this foreign land.
Withered and fading he laid
Dreaming of life: with her,
Before the stroke, before she died.
He was as empty as his home-
He welcomed death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem