Decayed tombstones, broken-winged angels
still breathing in this courtyard.
The old kings, heroes and warriors having a long term rest
after a brutal murder.
cemetery flowers; some withered
but some in bloom.
there is no room for the spectators and tresspassers
who search their ancestors.
chains, swords, crowns, rings bracelets and bangles
all had been turned to dust.
nothing remained.
even their names and addresses
everything washed and vanished
by the heavy rains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An enjoyable piece; perhaps you would like my poem entitled 'Dust', which has a paralleling theme.