In between the line of shade and drizzling rain,
covered and uncovered,
the half of me has gone different.
why is my heart still pumping,
when my other half is falling?
why are my eyes still dripping,
only when happiness is not in the mood?
why has the umbrella missed my left shoulder,
when my right shoulder is still in shade?
As air hazes from thickened falls that breaths the silence,
i come as nothing,
of why my hands are tightly gripped under this umbrella.
If the coverage had a purpose,
then why am i an half?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
WONDERFUL, you have what it takes to be a great poet.