Everything, yes almost;
the sweets and the sweat,
the promises and the rhymes,
the gifts and the lifts.
All lost when I drowned;
a little beyond Santhome Church,
in the swell of the Bengal Bay.
Under dark clouds the day,
and a raised doubt there,
remember; the shrill n spill.
Sorry? It's all lost my dear,
myself, and that loving heart.
But I remain! An empty shell,
yet still a cover. The promise!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem