In a corner I sit alone
Rocking on my haggard chair
Worn out walls with protruding stones
Gleaming dust scuttling in the air
Behold I see a window pane
A ray of light flowing in
I move my legs but they are chained
The apparitions smirk and say; ‘We win'
Is it my old age or my amputated leg?
Is it my bubbling soul burning in rage?
My future looks so vague
As disease ravage my body like a plague
Loneliness is a curse
Old age is even worse
I once again want to bask under the warmth of my youth
I want to shun this life's harsh truth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem