Shriveled black of a morose night
Stayed flat on my palms
The offshoots of lines are lost
And forced me to live in borrowed fate;
Aggrieved neighbors winked
From behind the doors afraid of
Losing their lives into me;
The sun dares to wipe the night
Off my life and hides amidst
The dark clouds to save its face;
Conches and cymbals fall silent
As women recede into dark cell
To get unclothed and wash their armpits
To save their purity
From me- the son of the impure moon.
save purity, good poem, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To save its face! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Feeling nice that you liked it. Thanks.