back from work when he rings the bell
his face tells me not all is well.
there's a dog out there,
seriously wounded, can't even get up
saying this he picks up a plastic bowl
pours some water in it
and to show him he isn't alone
I follow him with a bowl of milk
with breads soaked in it,
must be some insolent car tyre
crushed his hind legs
a black emaciated one
with a patch of white
and upon that grass
beneath the sinking night
we two mourn.
turn of some simple words can easily hook the beauty of thought that has genuinity and imperishable truth...such poetry will surely lead us on..i love this art.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh, how incredibly sad but yet at the same time so very beautiful to see that a father has raised a compassionate and caring son. Nicely done.