o' where are the shudders of spine
brought by the cold air
you are robbed by time, may be
the endearing curiosity of a child,
at the edge of the star, someone plays flute,
peebles left at shore by flowing water,
herds of cows coming back to calves at dusk
amidst all, bereaved you breathe
and in you vibrates the unlaid poem.
Your poetry has a lot of imagery, I love it. Again well done!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah dear Doctor - this breathes the air of the Rg Vedas exquisite