Chaotic randomness
Of elements of life,
Turns into a straight line
Over the axis of time
Screeching motion
Stranded quietness
Fast lanes
Submissive verges
Shattered wings
Not so simple souls
Yearn for peace
For he who flew
Apparently –
Breaking shackles
Created foot prints
And passes
On the sands of time
The golden letters blew
Blown over by the tides
Winds of age
Smudged, vanishing
The prints, and the feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem