my hands grab the most familiar
ones
abandoned on that busy road
of many lives
i want something most familiar
to be
for once
significant so that faces of the
mob
can take a glimpse and talk
about it
like a headline of today's
front page
you have not read about it
nothing stirs your emotions
like a Whirlpool
and so i take all these familiar ones
and hide them in my heart
they grown there
like waterlilies on the murky
pool
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem