THE FREE VERSE OF THE PINK BUTTERFLY

The covetous sky commands again the submissive clouds

To spread over the ceiling of the earth

So that the flowers will be deprived of the sunlight

Then, the lovely petals will just slumber amidst the gloomy meadow

The buds will not bloom and eventually they will wither,

And the rain will wash away their beauty

Oh what a sorrowful scene!

Thunder tremors the paradise of the pink butterfly.

Lightning savages the splendor of its garden,

And extracts its pink tears.

The tears flow with the pitiless rain,

And the world is flooded with somnolence.

There is no reason for the pink butterfly to roam around.

It can only cry its pink tears,

For the entire universe will weep with it.

All will mourn because its paradise was ruptured.

Then, there will be no redolence of the pink roses,

Only the scent of death will be there

And, the pink tears of the pink butterfly will fall forever!

Oh what a melancholic pink butterfly!

CROSS

In the middle of the darkness, I am despondently sobbing,
Begging, vociferating because of enormous suffering.
Nobody accompanies me except my own shadow,
Not even one to share my yokes that constantly grow and grow.
My current situation is certainly miserable,
Betrayed by the world, like withering tree in fall,
I am only a poor slave before the eyes of the earth,
I do not have imposing value and what you call intrinsic worth.
Now, my eyes are swelling from incessant crying,
My heart is constricting and it is somewhat thinning.
To the outer space, my soul wants to fly freely,
I cannot bear the load anymore, which is truly heavy.
Why is it that there is torment in our society?
Can’t it be possible to be always happy?
Why is it that there are tears because of infernal bitterness?
Can’t it be possible to have perpetual smile of sweetness?
Why is it that in our life, surprisingly there are more thorns,
Than the leaps of delight and cheer of blowing horns?
Why is it that there are more decrepit and winding terrains,
Than harmless and tranquil roads, free from vacillations and pain?
My mind is now exhausted from profound contemplation
Of this gamut of vicissitudes, peeping without caution,
Why things are like this? Why things are like that?
Can’t they be just like this? Can’t they be just like that?
From the ultimate depth of my firm observance,
Rain pours, kisses me, and flings on me perfidious glance.
It yanks me ruthlessly to the lake of my sorrow,
But I struggle hard since I yearn to witness tomorrow.
The coldness permeates the deepest part of my bone,
I dream of someone to embrace me, however, I am alone.
Earnestly, I strive to fight in order to survive from drowning,
Yet, nobody’s here to reach his hand for me to cling.
I am adjacent to the jaws of misfortune,
Death is waiting to engulf me, inducing down emotion.
But, I recall of someone else whom I can surely depend on,
“Jesus Christ the Son of God”, celestial gift of true salvation.
The world becomes effulgent as I see him approaching down,
Then He takes my weary hand and casts away its frown.
He carries me so tenderly and tightly wraps me with his arms,
Wipes out my tears, touches my face, and brings out again its previous charms.
He gently smiles, kisses my forehead, and leaves there a mark of care,
Then He declares that in my heart, forevermore He will be there.
He guarantees devotedly to protect me from day to day,
To extend His palm in every time I need Him to clear my way.
He will not change until the end because His love is pure,
Just open the door of your cold heart, and He will come for sure.
That’s why He willingly accepted to die on the cross with agony,
Because, all He fervently wanted was to redeem us from misery.
His “sacred heart” eternally burns genuine flame of compassion,
Its luster indefatigably enlivens every generation.
His words confer enlightenment season after season,
That all consequences we meet have a divine reason.
The carrying of our own cross is just a humble manner,
To reinforce our fading faith, and to revive its radiance brighter,
This will mend all forms of wound that always bring grueling pain,
And this will direct to acme of felicity’s grandiose gain.