Lost in your glory
I turned in to a speck
Of dust
Left in the open to
Endure rain of curse
I began to rust
Like a piece of
Camphor my essence
Is gone
Without your heart
Beating for me I am
Almost done
No fresh breeze
Will ever bring to me
A fresh hope
Bad luck has
Thrown me into a path
On a tricky slope
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem