Guilt hangs her head in shame,
Where is pride now?
When the glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel,
Engulfed by destinies fiery, wet messenger has taken.
Night holds no comfort anymore,
No longer do plants caress with soft hand like petals,
No more do you hear the hushed whisper of your name upon the wind,
Beauty still exists,
Yet, you are blind and numb to all,
Except the oblivion; unto which you fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well penned, so very nice Luwi