Melancholies and poisonous breaths affect
This prudent heart of hers…
Spring's instant inconsistency succeeds
To spray her poetic world with a word
Given as a fresh compensation..
The cells of a romantic brain,
Store moments of true gain
And encircle scars that live eternally in pain…
The day she smiles in the morning,
She cries in the evening.
I see her cry, sometimes for her devastated ego
And sometimes on the shores of the blue sea,
Praying for chances to grow ….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We all have our problems with life.
Absolutely. Some do inspire us and this is the beauty of life, when we can translate our pain and make of it an art..