To be snubbed by a cigarette tomorrow,
too great was the night's sorrow.
The morning bliss my veins invade,
in utter shambles my stars are laid.
Sweeping through my fractured heart,
the cold winds of sadness depart.
In the harrowed streets of this weary town,
by a cloud of melancholy surround,
you'll often find me walking around.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem