Wherever the wind blows
I will go there
Our state has become
A family heritage
On Saturdays
The eagles gather
And taunt the beggarly vultures
How they perch bald headed
Waiting for crumbs.
The crows are singing
In their piebald plumes
Clapping, jumping, dancing
The big eagle struts
With a strong beak
It has borrowed the tongue
Of the parrot
Singing dirges of his deeds,
The beak of the pecker
And will bury the mother
In a huged pecked rock.
Wherever the wind goes
A storm is on its way
By that time
When it shatters,
When the flood comes
When everywhere is a tsunami
I will read my poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Flowing with the very blow of wind is dangerous it pokes feelings of instability against sober mind. But imagery scenes depicted through dancing words.