Copious amounts of blood flow, nonstop
.....A poet's head is in total disarray- -
Knocked silly against a sharpened "edge"...
...Bringing forth the dawn of day.
Perhaps, it is a spiritual letting
.....Or some divine circumstance employed
That awoke the poet to the "realization"- -
...That sometimes in life there is no joy!
Oft' times it is such a struggle
.....Just to tuck themselves into a safe bed...
And protect their minds and souls for living- -
...While blood continues pouring out of their head's.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem