The gavel waits while patience frays to fear,
Truth lingers lost in corridors of time;
Each passing hour sharpens conscience clear,
Yet powerless hands cannot right the crime.
The heart debates what law cannot restore,
And wrestles night with questions left unspoke;
Justice delayed corrodes its very core,
While inner storms ignite with every yoke.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem