Incessant rhythm of sadness sets itself within, casting about
self-doubt and insecurity.
Placing the tragedy of life untold, on front pages of a mind,
too deadened to think.
Formless, tepid fragments, touching strings of fallen sights,
obscured now by the recalling of insight omitted through the
years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
life untold, very fine, thanks.