Being blind I was inclined to the story of sight;
And looking the worm with the intimated past, I lied.
Till then, inclinations were returning
In ample award
And missing eyes and broken glasses in another embryo.
My deaf understanding was then born
And touched the self
Mistakenly blindness was unveiled.
I loughed in stiffy silence
I burnt the nail unflamed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Such a nice start, Tanvir. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks