... and the grief paused the smile,
questioning his supposed blessing.
En route an uncharted turf,
continually speaking ill by the minute.
Faded thin line of course and curse,
disturbing mix of right and wrong.
Mirror mirror looms the image
To his mind,
Inverted and virtual.
... and he sought to paint a rainbow
But its bright colours was dark and foggy
Digging his tunnel,
seeking its light.
A shovel blunt, a vision blurred
The end that owns the ray
refusing to come in sight.
... but must strive in hope against hope
Squeezing good from a tonne of bad.
Mirror mirror looms the image
Its erect, its real.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem