Red rimmed swollen eyes
Sad eyes that gaze back
Seeing only yesterday
The look of scorn contempt;
How do you know?
The cold nights of suffering
The warm days of pain
What do you know?
A prayer!
Why not its over now
Yet even this is empty
How do you speak to a stranger?
Praying is like shouting
Into an empty room
All you hear is yourself
So cry a thousand tears
Weep for your own death
Cry for your own suffering
And God?
He weeps for those
Who call him strange
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem