The distances of stars; the depths of space;
Cannot compare to the heart's dark places.
They're hinted at in poetry and art,
But even the most skilled of masters can't
Ever hope to transcribe their vast sorrows.
How can one convey the layers of grief
Caused by cruel Time's deadly, piercing arrows?
How can one decipher Death's winding sheets,
Or the raging, inner realms of madness?
Easier to describe crass sentiments;
Than try to trace the deep roots of sadness.
Easier to focus on the ornamental;
Than depict the wounded soul's bleakest nights.
Or to draw darkness out into the light;
Where it can be confronted and conquered
And, to a certain extent, comprehended.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem