Like a steadfast lamp
Perusing the heart of a dark room,
My soul on a truth quest.
What sharpens tongue's blade
That slashes dreams to smithereens?
What greens white eyes
That burrow another's morrow?
What intoxicates hands
That move to the music of mischief?
What saps heart's milk of kindness
And refills it with crimson?
'Stay still sauntering soul', a voice whispered to me
'All paths end at the grave of truth'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice poem great sentiments