It was oneness,
which brought my poetry
in the folds of autumn.
From words apart
you want to talk in space
for transparent signs.
The city sleeps
in morning mist, without
opening the windows―
of consciousness.
I come out in open
to watch the lone ficus tree
waiting to become a deity
of the walking shadows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem. Fantastic lines...... The city sleeps in morning mist, without opening the windows? of consciousness. Very true said in few lines...Loved reading it. Thanks for sharing.