With his back lying on a torn mat
Consuming the thoughts of tomorrow
Gazing at its fruit
Heavy was the mind to lift
His heart burned in sorrow
Darkness took over the light
How it would be for the tender souls?
How they wished to remove the yoke
Orphanage was not a joke
So interesting were the nights
The nights of folktales
Tears we could shade in dreams
The sober minds conquered
conquered with complicated dreams
A hard morning to believe
With a darkest shadow
What a sorrow departure he had
Never to return
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem