Like many others, he has a story to tell
Not of dragons and swords
Nor of his space travel and many lords
Not of his fight with a ferocious beast
Not of him flying west to east
It is a story of him in a dream
Being beaten and being scorned
With his body all bruises
Clothes tattered and torn
Of him with swollen eyes
An inability to rise
Of him screaming
His little mind pleading
How long his story would be
Not even he could see
Perhaps when his dream ends
Oh, will it ever end?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem