Ink spilled on a white cloth,
night ran away
after a long sleep.
I recalled the day
when
a crowd stared at me
for
a patch hid a hole in my garment.
The white
and
the black
quarreled.
All existence rests on this duel.
[Translated by Arvind Gigoo]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem