Pictures etched to catch,
A depthness then hung...
Shows mist and drizzle drawn.
A forecast of gray clouds,
Displayed above floors of parquet.
And parlayed behind closed doors...
Appears to come to those in conference.
Bearing surreal rainstorms to drench,
Until done!
Although some had eyes sparkling of brightness,
Captured.
Others carried tears,
When they looked away.
Knowing this exhibit conveyed,
Too many reminders.
Too many had known...
They had already walked,
Soaked streets wet with sorrows...
Few knew.
But realism comes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem