Night comes and I go to bed,
Wrap myself in a warm blanket and like a child,
I sleep beautifully into the silent night
But I can’t get rest.
A laborious day arises;
A streak of arduous work stands undisputed;
A parallel episode with my prospective glory day
Eludes timely.
There’s no time of the day when labour is over
But there’s a time when the day is saddest.
So, I sat alone at the highest summit in the middle of a quiet night.
Even though there was no hand of sound tapping on my ear drum,
I had no peace.
I noticed every face at a funeral
And the hospital patients were equally as sad,
So I gazed at a the cemetery and noticed that
The scenery of death was truly beautiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A parallel episode with the muse of life. Nice work.