After many days
I saw the history book
In the bookshelf,
Soon I took the book
With great enthusiasm
And began to turn its pages,
I found one of the pages of the book
Had become withered and crinkly,
Though all other pages were well,
The condition of the crinkly page was very bad and miserable,
It was impossible to read,
I saw it for a long time
With my gloomy eyes,
It wept,
I wept,
But it was too late,
I had to take the cruel decision,
I tore the withered page at the end.
Sometimes when things are beyond repair, we have to discard in our life and move on to a new one. A very thought provoking poem imbued with a meaningful message. Well penned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It wept, I wept, But it was too late, ....tears of love came too late