Happiness is born from the womb of misery,
Like a shoot of a delicate rose,
That is conceived from the seed in dirt,
Pushing against the gravitational pull,
Paving forward to fresh air from the sticky mud,
Pleasure feeds from the breasts of pain,
Like beautiful flickering stars,
Their twinkle start, when it gets dark,
The gloomy night highlights their colors,
The absence of light shows their spark,
Author ~ Samin Jan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful flickering stars, good write, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.