What's the great mystery behind
The creation of transgenders
And impotent males and females,
Who can't serve the futurity
But suffer a span of life dull
And die like simple waste of earth?
Some die or killed in foetus stage,
Some in childhood, lucky are they,
Some in youth, a devastation,
Some in middle age, a mere curse,
Some die ere too old, a blessing,
For death's inevitable for all.
Leave a seed for future is bliss,
For your life is prolonged on earth
Through your true copies for future;
My children placed their own firstborns
In my hands, and I stood in thoughts,
Blessed by destiny, I'm lucky.
Life's evening came with dark and confused thoughts
Of leaving something incomplete, giving
A chance to play another role on the stage,
And forget the anxiety of old age,
The second childhood of a grandfather
Holding his seed of future to bother.
Gondar, November 2018.
From Poem Hunter
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem