Dust laid thick on a shelf
A clock dead at a silent door
The days have rolled like
Papers of a fat book,
None to greet, at
Departures from tomorrows
Except a wretched picture
On a perished wall,
At a bloodless desk
As abandoned years ago
A pen and a dusty paper
Were idling on the floor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poignant yet beautiful poem. Thought provoking and vividly portrayed.