He had said 'enough', there was nothing left to tell
People had seen enough of the visions of his hell.
“I shall write no more! ” he’d said his pen had run quite dry
And anyway every word he wrote would bring tears to his eyes.
A shadow makes its way to him; the pale moon’s in the sky
And summer days within his world are gone and he must try
To cherish what is left to him as time slowly passes by.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem