Why are you not tired
of carrying the load
of the empty sky?
Neither sun nor moon
nor star is seen
in your sky
no less than decaying corpse,
it seems to me.
Who told you
to take this barren business?
the hallow burden
on your head devours
singing seasons in your heart.
it makes you a door of doom
and the field of your life
gets infested by blight worst
You are a portal of life,
why do you love to be
a porter of death yet?
Why don't you retire
your habit to be a hearse?
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem