'Tis the empathy lost in the stillness of war,
The kind i have been missing for long,
Ungrasped with the selfishness of times,
Hoaxed by the airs of harsh.
The poetry's left behind, parched are the pertinent lines,
Where, the subtlety's pained for emotions.
Toucher the transcendental devotion,
An ultimate goal of notion trying to win the auction.
To union, it may join its master,
Who pained for the emotional loss,
Who, until now, waiting amidst the tempest
To end the long quest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem