In Quicksands Poem by Satish Verma
In Quicksands
You wouldn't know,
what you didn't want to,
after a sweet osculation
of a cleaver.
There was blood
on grass, after witnessing
the afterlife of a future god.
The goddess still weeps.
A black moon hovers
in blue sky. Was there a
polite embrace after
a violent actuality?
Delicately you hold
back your tears. The most
important exit was to
remain reticent.
Unsaid ache was the
greatest bliss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/29/2024 3:07:55 PM # 1.0.0.1119
