Life tells
me to go
and to arrange
a bouquet
of sorrow,
I make.
You hold
my hand
with care
but I slip,
the sun rises,
but darkness
does drip.
Your love
grows
in my
secret chamber,
you are mine,
still, emptiness
fills my bed.
I laugh,
but in void
tear in lieu
of smile
is silently
paid...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A distraught state we encounter sometimes, the tables turn, and all we get is wat is opposite to our deeds and needs...this is what i get from here! ! ! nice depiction of the state of life! ! !