The verve of his poetic mind
starts collapsing
Yet the desire to write is still beating
into the heart of hidden agony
that has been striking to break
the already broken windows of his fame
He may be able to find
a sharp little piece of glass
out of those windows
to tear his name apart
For the blurred vermilion write
has begun to perish
bearing the days of his exultant past
Now he hungers for someone
to follow the vestige he is leaving behind
(15th of April,2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem