Why is the flame of hope upset with the wick of life?
Even my defeated eyes dream of the defeated knights.
Not knowing how to ignite the flames of the distant tomorrow.
In the slanted lines of my hands
I don't know where I stand.
If it's already written, then let me ask, will there be punishment or benevolence?
With translucent waves, will my feeble defense be washed away like a castle of sands?
Whatever is happening is it my feverish efforts or just a mirage in life's desert.
In front of me, there are two boats,
Today might not be the right day for anyone of them.