From morning mist a dew drop
on earth's platter
and there is sunrise again on
eastern horizon
waves bang on the sandy shore
and ocean in full control of the
wings of waves
monsoon rain drops clear
the debris of pretends of
dramatic poetic wisdom and
submerge in ocean's depth
and you remain there on that
black board as KING RAVANA
with thousand cruel faces
and wear that crown of gossamer
remember to safeguard
those thousand faces to showcase
each one on a day break as a
memoir of poetic great wisdom
(to a friend who confessed to have back stabbed his own friend. It is difficult to identify him as he got thousand faces like demon king Ravana, demons are heartless as he claims)
i don't find ravana as a great demon... it is rama who ill-treated his woman Sita and our whole nation worships him.. what a paradox!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Riveting depiction...intruiging theme, indeed...and as usual, another gem from your pen, young lady! ~ F j R ~ (((2008)))