At dead of night all inmates
lying in deep slumber,
I'm awake at my laptop,
trying to script a poem,
on hope dispelling despair.
Images come to my mind;
they seem clichéd, time-worn.
My fingers stumble on the keys,
failing to conjure up symbols
of dream and human bond;
memories of horrors crowd in.
.
I glance through the window
at the immensity outside,
searching for new phrases
of words; but no response;
and I switch off my inner self.
At day break a whiff of fresh air
laden with fragrance of flowers
wafts in, rustling through trees;
the dark recedes into early rays.
The night long gloom vanishes,
yielding to sparkling human joy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem