If you could hold within visions,
and embrace tomorrow's shadow,
at glimpse of ambience,
what faith then holds for the poet?
How beauteous wish tomorrow be,
but why doesn't it bow?
And if caught in splendor colds of nightmares,
why not go into deals?
All days comeforth not with glees,
and if they do,
what have you to prove?
Scuppered flesh and ego,
Will done any harm?
The rains may seize, and scarcity
might breed.
Do not be surprised, if tomorrow
comes in the likeness of black presents.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem