Life, like Time,
Once gone is gone forever.
Why talk about what exists no longer?
It's gone,
Forever gone
Like the sandalwood
On my pyre.
On the glittering table
The candle weeps
To light a candle-lit dinner
Given in someone's honor.
I was that candle
And I was burnt
To create a romantic atmosphere
For somebody's idle pleasure.
Something happens within
And a formation bows down
Into submissive awareness
With no strength
To stop being abused.
But, why talk about it now?
A now
Begotten of abuse,
A now with tomorrow dead
Born out of burnt-out days
Less of flesh
More of ashes.
Yet, a question lurks:
Can I emerge from the ashes?
I wish I were a phoenix
And challenged the tyranny of Time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem