Grim is the path that leads to life
littered with cold spine of thorns,
the grip of grief,
the loss of faith,
the claws of vengeance,
unfilttered rush of strife and fear,
a criss cross of pain and pleasure-
Forlorn in the cruel hands of fate
hopes' were ruined,
passion slain;
beneath each smiles
lies strings of guilt; and
like the doomed priest,
we wrestled the unseen surge-
Pitched against the zip of time,
moments fly like birds
out of their haven,
rustling purrs from muted voices
broken pieces of shattered might;
it was a fight; so unfair,
the path of life;
a strech of sorrow,
bearing sparing splashes of joy-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem