The speechless air and vacant corridors
And a silent soul waving through.
His face is firm, his face is solid.
Embraced by grief, the heavy heart trudges
Along the mosaic, emotionless tiles.
His eyes are too weary for anymore tears,
His thoughts too sad for anymore depression
Life that seemed to sip away like each teardrop,
Didnt know of more melancholy.
What was his grief?
A thousand souls swept the corridors of distress;
What were their grief?
For some unfortunate reason,
Sorrow has a miilion wombs to grow from,
Is Life so sad?
I dont think so,
But Life keeps trying always to convince us
That its of suffering, thorns and death.
Or is it that humans are pessimistic by nature?
Are we all born with an urge to cry?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem