Walking around the world so weak,
constantly sorrowing without doing wrong.
Standing here surrounded by strangers,
sorrowing for something that i have seaked.
But everything in the world is gone,
like the unknown words of a long lost song.
Finally the light at the end of the tunnel,
looking like the oilstains from and overused funnel.
Suddely found a place to rest,
sorrowing about the crumbling of the nest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem