Down the mountain..
Were sound travels quickly
away in horizon,
were sun rise lazy above the clump
where fear, hides underneath
two rivers of fire and water.
Down the mountain..
a shadow different than shadows
whenever noon stands,
sick shadow in front of me,
walks above dusty road.
My hands were clinging to clouds
dug up the earth, for calls from homeland,
a homeland were still the scene of blood
In the glow of morn.
My lips were not yet
recovered from counting
it was about a thousand,
after thousand
puzzled weighted poems
governed by rhymes
governed by love or war
could it be I never know
as well, said Zeus,
as well responded Helen.
Down the mountain..
dream was born amid nebula's collar,
was a winged,
Cleaves east deserts
night after night,
gone lost, where lost in sand
a golden homeland.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks Gajanan Mishra, appreciated