A feeling of acute despair,
With fear walking on the nerves.
A lump gathers in the throat,
With the mouth parched,
Words stagnate.
.
Solitude is an abode,
With loneliness a friend.
Disgrace sets in with anxiety,
With self pride,
Will alienate.
Remorse comes from instinct,
With time as a healer.
Grief has no wisdom,
With self betrayal,
Wise survives.
Reminders improves the self,
With forgotten past.
Joy invites pleasure,
With self help,
Winner takes all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem