Over the blended scars on my soul,
Nonetheless healing stings furiously;
Sets forth to the departed past.
The past where the uncanny roses,
Seemingly sparges the hidden satire,
Of the unspoken and unrealistic love,
Over the blended scars on my soul.
The sterile hopes, the sterile dreams of incarnating
Stands still, stands dill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a nice start, Ankita Ch. Read my poem, Love and L u s t. Thanks.