If pain turn gain again,
It will only appease hates
And those dying lumps of wane
That means nothing now but paper-weights.
So when the story appears of its rotten root.
I will not shy from these truth
I vow to smile and stay put
Tied, to a renew 'soot'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautifully penned. Please kindly check my poems HOPE and THE BEAUTY OF DEATH and leave your comments.