Peacefully asleep
tired of the journey,
long way did she walk...
A loving hand extending,
to touch over the dead spirit.
An unknown intention...
Honestly she woke up to respond,
for a moment, face hidden;
merely a faith in between.
was everything a part of game?
An act without shame!
A relation without name.
standing apart, seeking in herself
-the lost self-
hears the applaud of the bell’s - the evil,
The evils in her, laughing over
The triumph of joy.
Preening before the mirror
saw herself fading by...
A scratch unto the face of heart,
bloods of impurities bleed,
put the sacred shroud on to herself
like the virgin Bride
with a soul of a widow...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
". the virgin bride. …..// with the soul of a widow" wowow! ! What an expression! Really poetic. The sadness and rebellion of the protagonist rubs in on the heart of the reader. Profound.5*s