Bloodless Eyes Poem by Satish Verma
Bloodless Eyes
The fresco had started
peeling off. I was―
searching for my ancestors.
The walls had the secrets
buried deep in the bricks―
when they were baked.
Few abandoned poems,
some fakes and counterfeits
and many masks.
A dynasty speaks of
the grieving world without any―
remorse. I do not arrive.
A birthday present for the new
generation, a bronzed
face with glazed eyes looking beyond gravity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/13/2024 5:59:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Search of roots- - -dynasty speaks of grieving world without remorse- - -birthday present to new generation, a bronzed face. Great.10