Right now
the mind is blank,
right now
have an empty heart;
my dreams pause
at a wasted bank,
then flow
without a path.
Fragile
as the paper boats,
they float
with short lived glee;
knowing fully,
death's a truth
and awaits them
constantly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Melancholy and hurting lines, smarting eyes tinged with pain and ceaseless suffering. Some times reality of existence flows along stifled lil flows to crash incessant against the maddening din of raging rivers, muddied sullied and pummeled to submissive knots In the best poetic tradition. Done really well. Liked reading