Lucid blurdness
is all can be seen.
With hopeful thoughts,
only a little smile
can be made.
But my bleak injured heart
has decry to me,
it beats says...
Lucid pain is in your tears,
as clear as the scene.
Im lying beside
my mans grave,
and cry like
i was just singing,
but an endless puerile weep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem