The ego’s fires had subsided, quietly,
Golden hues appeared on slept-in beds
I tried catching sprawled self-shadows
Products of yesterday’s mashed egos.
The graphic eye, silver-lined and lying,
Was helpless to bolster bewitching beauty
The eagle’s cry went up to the sky
From the green sea of coconut fronds
Yesterday the Godchild smiled exquisitely
Today is another day of empty space
So much incandescent space to be filled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem