regrets presiding over the inquisition
in the torture chambers of past hurts
the subconscious relentlessly whacked
bloodcurdling screams shatter the present
shards of broken hearts everywhere
the ghosts of the past stoutly refusing
stoutly refusing to yield to the future
there a fresh dawn yearning to sprout
the tide of pain is on the ebb
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem