Descriptions of such rebuking yells and ringing sounds,
from behind the walls of difficult pounds,
the gray hues of lifeless skies,
to fallen tears as wrecking bys.
Concerning the walk,
of how my life has been fed,
carrying on with reckless reflects,
creating this rage outshining the faults,
from the past,
who am i?
If without a trace,
question with fallen sights,
to my nearest eyes till years has given back,
evading my being from voices of condemning shouts,
then today as i perform my question who am i?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem