Would I have lived died if not for you
If you were the land and I the vessel
Would I've ventured into port to follow?
You to your bedchamber your condo
Love can't anchor me, it's all a deceit
Death, he's like some chirpy parakeet
Mocking each day, left in front of me
Pointing at a rainbows disappearing act, he
Then hands me a dirty greying canvas
Says now change your circumstances
Handing me a pallet knife says capture
Life's prismatic, colours, in all its rancour.
In truth those colours faded, they're amiss
Everything I've painted likens to hieroglyphs.
Unreadable(But) like a small child,
A small vessel, whose been chipped, I'm beguiled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem