In a nation of black darkness: I am lost;
I crave to run out of this land unmindful of host.
Eyes are short of tears blazing down my face,
Scary thoughts making dumb my spirit to pace.
Pinning to die, to get tranquility at fast,
Life is full of thorns, the die is mast.
The worthlessness that devours me live,
Is concealed way down deep inside.
All suck up my spirit and emit it foul,
The ache of it force me howl.
In the storm my sobs are blown,
No one to heed, far they've thrown.
Motionless is my heart the cries ping,
But of love and delight will never get wing.
For no emotion is within thee,
Only a living tomb like world will see.
With death I have a promise to keep,
An appointment from which I cannot weep.
Not at all do I agonize about my gait,
Stillness at last, I just have to wait.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem