When Shakira was dancing
waving wildly
and sparing her love
for the land of Africa
deep within an anguish crept
if only, if only, if only
there was Jackson singing..
When the World cupped
within the golden cup,
the whole world supped
with the scheduled teams,
when the lusting urge
to win spiralled in the crowded stage
I wished so sadly
that you were there
My Moon Walker
and man of immeasurable steps
that you were to air your love
to the people of your own dear
just I felt the missing throb
it pinched me badly
that touch was killing
the missing presence unwilling
to give up
inconsolable the emptyness wailed...............
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem