Moving disappearingly across spans of listless time,
bereaved for many moments of the future.
Likely aspects, rudimentary facets walking - tracing -
future destinies and lost facts.
Wandering outskirts of yesterday's horizons, scarcely
looking forward to tomorrow's headlines and stories.
Whichever way becomes merged with a lost particle,
another direction has been formed and spent in letters,
requesting formalities.
Underlying causes pressing and tearing away the foundations
of lonesome senses, all the while, figuring the essence of intellectual beings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I loved this poem. I think it is excellent.