So, I guess after all our stars weren’t align
I’ll wake up and forget the lack of mourners
And remember when once you were mine
I shall wake up and stroke the bed corners
And in my quiet solitude like a racing bicycle
I’ll tighten every spoke taught and straiten-
Out every minute’s mile into a rooftops icicle-
Melting, that’s my only ultimatum to you...
I’ll win my yellow jersey, just you wait and see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very amazingly drafted and shared such an interesting poem. Wisely written.