Seniors can leave early
that is their right,
so we are told.
No qualms about that.
But my mates,
pals who saw the light
of the day at the same year
as me, how can they leave?
And my juniors
who spent far little time here,
how could they leave so early,
how on earth could they?
Frivolous is the logic
dished out,
to leave early, to desert
me in this isle of isolation.
I have complaints aplenty,
but won't utter even one.
Those who would've heard
have left early.
Then why should I live?
And why shouldn't I too leave.
No I won't, for I was left alone,
not me who left them.
I would thrive
I would chug on and on.
Wounded but
won't be hounded out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem