Home coming is a thing of joy
But this joy saddens my heart
When Home becomes House
And House turns Morgue
Who is there to celebrate me?
When silence House my Home
And celebration turns pile of funeral,
City turns Village,
My pen has kissed the largest book,
But nothing to show for it.
I fought all wars
Now I see a new war.
The cruelty in this world saddens my heart.
Now that the EYES can talk, the MOUTH can see,
Even the grave can lie,
Then who should I trust?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What is the largest book? The 'Book of Life'? I always imagine that book will be a very large book! Or a degree? Tell me
the largest book is the mind