A withering leaf,
Crest fallen,
Below the clouds of sorrow,
Waiting the loud lightening,
To jump down,
In depths of saddened,
end,
And slow moonlight,
prevailing behind the darkness, of rainy clouds, waiting of kiss of heavens.
And banks of river,
Standing silent with questions.
Is it a cleared fate?
To find epmty hands,
Where worn-out blooms,
End in glooms
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is it a cleared fate? To find epmty hands, Where worn-out blooms, End in glooms........no one will answer and may remain unanswered for times to come.....10 read mine.....innocence regained...pain