Can you pick up the pieces
When the glasses
Are broken
And pieces
Are scattered
Can you pick up the pieces
When the ashes
Of your dreams
Are blown away
And spread
Across the land
Can you pick up the pieces
When the horizon
Of your dream is blurred
The sky of your life
Is cloudy
With no rainbow in sight
Can you pick up the pieces
When you stumble
In the race of life
Not once or twice
But always
Can you pick up the pieces
When the spring of your life
Has dried up
When the petals
Of your being
Has withered
Can you pick up the pierces
And start from the ground
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem