Time stands still on the twig.
The sky keeps changing colors,
Blue, dark, ivory, violet -
She grows old, I turn feeble
Ego, enmity, jealousy fade
Our stories dry up to the end!
The twig remains there,
Braving rain, bad weather,
It doesn't break, doesn't complain,
Endures mutely the passing of pain,
Standing robust under the changing sky,
Reshaped landscape, agony's cry,
With no wars to fight, no belief to defend,
It is there to see us reach the dead end!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Gr8 poem! Liked the allegorical application.