His mind wept emptily, ghostly bare,
Half-alive he drifted unaware.
O what madness grips his devilish wits?
What disgraceful crimes this man commits
On evils very doorstep
We must cure this apocalyptic sin
Which hides and cowers from within,
An obedient pick will amend the soul
Of harmless minds we can’t control
Now blissfully he thoughtlessly dies
With sadness drenched in his ethereal eyes,
Pondering on nothingness
Who are we to judge our own?
Let the one without sin cast the stone
In our wicked world
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The poetry makes beyond man can reach Who are we to judge our own? Let the one without sin cast the stone