Why write
When there are no words to spill.
Why think when all this life
Death is the will.
How long shall it be-
The suffering of life.
Let there be no lines to write
For we only see human strife.
Why fill this empty space
When it will still be empty.
Why be happy when all there is
Is nothing.
Why write
When hands are frail.
Why think
When mind is tired.
Why paint
When it’ll still fade.
Why have it
When you’ll still lose it.
Enjoy things now
And tomorrow cry in sorrow
With the heart so empty
And the thoughts gone by.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the context is substantial to inquisitive thoughts...well presented..fine write...10