No, Hours won't be dressed
in silence clothes.
Will not rest
under shady
hovels of grief.
Dream· punished child
will run
with hope-scooter to muddy road·
then, Anger, morose old man,
will fondle the look of laughter
and will die omniscient.
Let the Will stay on shore tonight..
So, with a mood light.
Lydia Lavda Drums Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem