I have no consumerism.
As a lone struggler I am
I know where the shoe pinches
Most of the time,
I feel the pulse of my purse
Each time.
Dream is far away
From my cloudy eyes
Spring has no charm
In the reign of thirsty desire.
I walk and walk searching
A lamp post in the night
And find none with me
Once at sight,
All along the pre-turmoil quiet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem