The smoky bar
with full of noise.
A lonely drunk
at the corner table.
No one would sit
by his table. But
Sometime a fellow
come and disturb him
saying'You've killed me
with your tunes...
and... am drunk, sorry! '
and leave shakily.
But the lonely drunk
won't t lift his head
to take notice of it!
So what? Time goes
like that! Tunes
are there...
With eyes fixed at
the table cloth design
he would listen
tunes in his heart.
He would think
of that fellow killed
by his haunting tunes
and those dusty awards
lying at corner
'My dear..'
he muttered
'You think am alive?
Am a ghost of the past'
But.. dear why, why
you must come
in this bar? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem