Bassim
VIP Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2008
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bosnian
- Home Country
- Bosnia Herzegovina
- Current Location
- Sweden
Would you please correct the mistakes in my poem?
Love
The landscape is the endless sea of white.
The river covered in thick ice.
I have trudged for decades in this desolate place,
Looking for the path,
Waiting for the river to thaw.
“You loser! You wretched fool!” a voice says to me.
“Give up! Your sperm has dried out. You will leave behind nobody.
You smell of death.”
“Man! Go on! Fight!” another voice says. “Show me how much you love me.
Tell me how it feels when your body trembles and your muscles strain.
Scream! Howl! Cry! I am your true love.”
Silence.
Indifferent whiteness.
My boots crunching the frozen snow, tramping the past,
Leaving behind hopes.
It is meaningless and futile – my battle has been lost.
But I have to plod on.
A bride waits for me behind the horizon.
Her face is ugly, her voice croaky,
Her limbs covered in oozing pus and gaping wounds.
I have learnt to love her – my pain.
Love
The landscape is the endless sea of white.
The river covered in thick ice.
I have trudged for decades in this desolate place,
Looking for the path,
Waiting for the river to thaw.
“You loser! You wretched fool!” a voice says to me.
“Give up! Your sperm has dried out. You will leave behind nobody.
You smell of death.”
“Man! Go on! Fight!” another voice says. “Show me how much you love me.
Tell me how it feels when your body trembles and your muscles strain.
Scream! Howl! Cry! I am your true love.”
Silence.
Indifferent whiteness.
My boots crunching the frozen snow, tramping the past,
Leaving behind hopes.
It is meaningless and futile – my battle has been lost.
But I have to plod on.
A bride waits for me behind the horizon.
Her face is ugly, her voice croaky,
Her limbs covered in oozing pus and gaping wounds.
I have learnt to love her – my pain.