God is not the Pied Piper,
who plays sweet memories
and takes us to Hell,
or Heaven.
The incurable disease
at one hand and the pain
it gives..
the romantic heart
which keeps on telling
that nothing has happened.
Will he come,
to his once green earth,
which is now orange, or blue,
or yellow as one may add.
This world will be destroyed,
as the wise says...
and the cave created
where the Pied Piper will
enter summoning
the destroyed world,
to find his untouched treasu
The hospital bed that was booked
after many hardship,
where the patient lies,
half with trauma and half
with pain,
with fever and waits...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
with pain with fever and wait..