Goodness of soul trembles now-
o'er the brink of earth
it may unclapse my hand
and float placidly
in the unknown water
like some sad flowers...
some lines which need be straight
upto the last blue surge of sky
break, or bow into
fragments of disqualification...
I cannot draw a line straight
upto your destination,
you cannot upto my histories-
once upon a time, here
crowd pulled over the streets-
like the tall column of strength
stood their weapons of voice-
united we walked across
under the roof of an honest courage:
my pen like Achilles' arrows
did strike deep into wounds of time...
now human lines are ransacked,
poet's straight pens are shrunk
between compromising lines
now beneath the rows of thousand elms
loneliness walks in me
with so many curves and fractures:
prehistoric shadows of apes
match with these so many bendings...
goodness like last golden brown flakes
drop ones and twos above my head
I cannot hold your cause
you have slipped everything of me...
between us goodness trembles...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem