Yesterday's a deserted puddle
With water all dried up.
The memories are savoring,
But empty is the cup.
And yesterday is a bare glass
With not a thing to drink.
It holds no substance in its hand
And only gives a ‘wink.'
And like the total silence of
A pleasant sounding fife—
Yesterday, like shifting sand,
Is just a phase of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Amazing piece, liked Very much this poem about yesterday