Playing melodic strings of a heart, churning
and stirring images and memories of a life
left behind on a desert plain.
Not taking any part in a long, lonely journey,
forking out on pathways of brevity and lofty
discourses.
Holding onto voices and ideas of yesteryear,
clutching them in pockets of despair while
fighting to live in an unfriendly atmosphere.
Beyond belief, all heaviness of a heart falls
upon hardened soil, soaking up it's life blood
in veins of soft relief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
After trying with best efforts to avert the odds when it gets fatigued, the person gets demoralized, but cannot kill self, then it tries to live with happy memories being isolated. Though it's very hard to listen but factually it happens like this....... there remains no way excepting fighting them with own endeavor.