Comic End Poem by Satish Verma
Comic End
The swamp was in
boil. It was raining
again on the open wounds.
The scissors will
play a dirty game. You
divide the river
in right and left.
Enough was the greed
when you follow the bun.
After the surgery, no blood
was left.
I will go.
You would sing in praise
of coolness of water.
It refuses to move.
Escaped the blast, the
sparks. You can sail
in bottomless boat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 6:24:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
