I’ve coughed for days and my lungs appear weak;
I’m not completely all right even now;
My poetry is however at its peak;
It is a wonder true; I don’t know how.
There isn’t a soul to talk kindly to me;
With saddened heart, I continue my rhymes;
I pray so often to the Almighty,
To lift my heart and give it better climes.
The world is getting worser, day by day;
The way people behave, bewilders me;
All love to live in their own wicked way;
The world is living in adultery.
And what about the unlucky victim?
Who cares to make the life for her less grim?
7-12-2002
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem