in the dark of night
under the cover of dark
when no eye sees me but mine
and no ear hears me but mine
when the bursting flames burstingly die
and the grip on life deteriorates by day
and what's left of me
are dying embers,
of a life once worth reminisce
when the comfort is gone
and splendor done
when no one dares stand
by me
but me
when all hope lies hopeless
on cold hearth,
is the genuine me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Awesomely crafted and perfectly executed this one...