They vent, advise, and walk away,
Not ready to listen to a word I say,
There are a few who don't go away,
To them, I have nothing much to say,
Withal I have a sequestered place,
A platform for my independence
Involving no kind of acceptance,
A sole place for perfect solace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem