In a histrionic manner I stride
With zealous, intensions meant to be perceived
For it has been now a prolonged rough ride
To reminisce, all the zeal thwarted
For it's now a ship in distress
At a threshold to sink for good, so incompetent,
Left without any to impress
A blot on escutcheon is the captain, so complacent
All passengers not at ease, in distraught
For it takes the beast for survival
In remorse, I weep in this jaunt
Struggling with all efforts, peddling for revival
Muddled being the situation, in the seas
Battling for the last breath, held tight the rope
How I wish the feat to have cease
Maybe someday, titanic sunk but never lost hope
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem