Expressly concerned fortitude rips open the side of compassion, spilling the lifeblood of utterly human endeavors.
Whiling and wasting the powders of life as they are blown away
by the wind; sent hell-bent into depths of unreprieveable
essence, lying on hard cold cement.
All joy and happiness gone, their echoes lying lifeless in the noonday sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem