A flame that is burning silently
Without a remorse or guilt
With flakes of hope
And bundles of fear;
Walking on the moor
Under the shade of a lone chinar
I found the dream floating in timid air
Waiting to be picked;
Unmindfully the floss I pulled
And the flame froze in my hand,
The blue moon smiled through the leaves……
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem