On my way to the graveyard,
I saw a lad,
And in my every look,
I found him weeping for his dead father.
Surprisingly, around him and his tears
There were many but none even bothered.
Soon, I went for a short walk
And as soon as I returned,
I found all vanished.
Disappeared, the hopeful lad who hoped for help,
Disappeared, his dead father,
Disappeared, the robust cord
That attached him with the emotions.
But things that I found left behind
Were, like always, some hideous traces of blood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem