Barn In shadows of the Fire
In abysmal roar of raging wildfire; I hide my shadow
clamp down to ineffable star- studded show
Disposed by indurate hopes,
Nothing will be uttered in tumultuous trite crops;
I start finding joy in the readiness to leave
In the clamour of conundrum, nothing relives,
I control the defunct rays of reappraisal's claws
Rearmingthe shard of sharp-limbed shadows,
I recite my woe betide to wilt,
Flood water left nothing for my field but silt,
Still, wrench free to waddle in wondrouswolds
This is my beautiful world.
Triumphal trees of triffid weedles my wishes and desires,
Tales of Troubadour trodden balming my barn, now my shadow's attire is this colours of fires.
- Lovita J R Morang
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Unfulfilled desire is just like wild fire. When wild fire catches a large farm building used for storing grain this turns everything to ash. This provokes thought. An amazing poem is very brilliantly penned.