SL ( / )


Hazy misty are the mirrors,
That once did shine with glares,
And reflected the images clear,
The same now disfigure the humanity.

The roses that glowed dancingly,
Are dull, yellow colour prevails them all,
They are decaying, fading, withering.
And the trees bend feeling troublesome,
Agonizing pain in their backbones.

The spheres are obscure, dusty,
Ashes blur the face of the Moon,
The earth trembles on emerging,
Appearing, awful erratic incidents,
Which contaminate the blue seas.

The waves rise with the feeble move,
The smoke devours the airs clean,
The awakened eyes are depressed,
And dissuade all on seeing the tragedy,
Being performed on the stage.

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