A Grizzled man groans when he is in front of a shattered mirror.
The two thirds of his life entirely a strife.
He stretched his arms to hold the bygone
but the precious time is faster than his thoughts
and he cannot grab his youth.
Who meddles in his last act?
and he sniffs always to an unfamiliar voice,
a sad whisper of a guarantor
and the typhoon beyond the mountain.
The poor migrant's identity is expired
and he belongs to another world.

To the dark passing clouds before the rain.

nimal dunuhinga

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/non-resident/