Pain of living is intense, it's a feeling of troubled sense
and recompense.
A liturgy of unquieted remorse, alive within thoughts of
undelight.
Solitary awakenings coursing within, tabulating fortunes
of yesterday.
Forgetting the presence of any beginning thoughts held at
bay within the pain of total living.
Caring not for the last of programmed ineptitude, longing
for emptiness that loneliness can always bring.
Forgetting past images, molded and shaped like clay, turning
memories into unfit acquiescence.
Lighting horizons, clearing ways towards everlasting shores,
carrying self with tides of remorse.
Unforgiving, tears of unfelt sorrow sliding down borders of
yesterday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem