A discordant wind stirs up the corners,
A subtle whiff lingers on…
Around this monotony, this nebulous hour
As I write beyond my void tomorrows.
Elegant fawn colored shifts
Float in float out
In quiet throes,
They are not an omnibus of sorrow,
Neither of pain..
In routine words
They encore again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem