Last letter from Spring was written in tears
of Koel soaked in red oozing from our heart
as we rolled on thorns of inexplicable aches
tuning our ears to broken syllables of lost love,
turning green grass into patches of brown reeds;
lips of flowers trembled in strange fear,
wind stood still, unable the sad sight to bear
leaves shed drops of reddish dew into stormy chest
of a night torn by a desire to be or not to be
as wisps of grey clouds covered face of the moon,
stars glimmered like conflicts in our minds
sighs simmered in fold of arms destined to part,
and the words of the last letter merged into dust
before turning into an echo in silent corner of the heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An imaginative poem. +++10- - - - - - - - - - - -