There lives a place inside - the sacred palace garden
A world of black and indigo hides behind the guarding wardens
He used to walk the gardens, for everyone to see
No one now calls out to him for the man is lost in leaves
Trees have taken over now in this verdant palace grove
Once where there was joy and pride there stands no sight of trove
Fountains halt their flowing and draw their final drink
While the paper in the chamber rots and fades off all the ink
Someday the man will soon return, if not in solemn passing
Bringing gardens back to life in hopes to make them lasting
The rest of the world keeps moving, with worries of getting old
But for now the gardens lie empty, without a hand to hold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem