The man beside me encaps many ways
His dreams crushed by many sways
Of his two wheels he loses one talent
At the corridors of GOD's decent
He breaths words that make the Lord ascent
His words don't denote the cause of his scar
They are but a half star
Someone tell me the ponder of his ways
Perhaps his sorrows are but as sober days
For his pain did speak a phase
Whatever make his mood a norm
It was as sore as a high storm
For in chastise did it abound
Life confined him all around
Yet it did make a sound
My heart burned with pity
And my prayers became a city
So that the Lord would be aloft
Unto his desires so soft
For after chastise it became a dust
His presence was as a woman
Trying to sway me in her yarn
But behold it was my mirror-image
And myself did I try to besiege
Alas, myself dis I call my liege
For as in caution birds take flight
So my ways became a fright.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love this.