Rules are rules,
Like not breaking them;
Signs don’t speak
But yet is clear.
Times are sour,
Dark and empty;
Stare from top the tower-
The ugliness of pity.
Which is wrong
Stealing or choosing?
Life is short
And souls are losing.
Don’t want, don’t won’t
It heals quick the wound;
Daringly confused,
Yet the heart says it’s in love.
A wonder has begun,
That of the sun;
Yes, it shines
But never smiles.
When temper is lost,
Same goes a friend;
It gets even worse
As a broken heart still bend.
The offence has grown,
The land is alone;
So it’s been newsed
Bribe, hands, no longer fuse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem