She slouches in her prestigious seat,
Her eyes heavy with apathy.
Her once happy visage glows with grave sorrow.
Torn by a sense of guilt, she sits in uneasy silence.
Images of his death plague her tortured mind.
A forlorn tear dripped down her beautiful, mournful face.
Sweet mournful queen, wipe your tears away.
Be patient for there is hope.
You had not caused him to die.
The murderer is known, he shall know justice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem