Life is just an empty shell
where my existence life
waits for each tomorrow
as the day of redemption.
I walk in long shadows
of past procurements folly
within the bars
of my own making.
Across the barren
and deserted wasteland
of empty dreams
and cloud laden skies.
Where everywhere I walk,
empty bowls surround me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem