The glory behind the first look of the child,
The insanity in the hair turning into white
All in one capture of life,
Lead to the death which is open and rife.
The seeds of wisdom laid deep in the sunset
The galloping struggle in the sunrise
Each survivor had to turn around the beginner
When the life started out of the blue
Out of the stark, dead desolate tryst of nowhere.
The birds turned into the black shadow of mesmerized dark,
I craved for yet another chance in sunrise,
My stars were favored by the mystic lady of the moon
And I thus thought that I had lost it to the sunrise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem