… How do I tell the story of pain,
The tale of pale faces, or torrential rain?
… When at night every ambiguous shadow is slave,
Tempestuous ocean is doomed in its wake,
All protected obscurities in a corner turn-
Toward the hasty currents, so stern…
… In the lonely home of pain, abides a poetess’s heart.
The essence of her poems remain so far apart.
At night when the sight of sea unfolds,
Its vision piles upon each other and scolds.
The poetess begins a fresh poem, nothing new.
She opens a different path, closes the view…
... And other ideas are taken by the waves!! ... Elie bing