With any manoeuvre I feel and touch the pain
I see and smell the pain
I hear and think nothing except the harsh silence of the pangs
Every action anticipated is under the threat of smoke and simple blow of air
The destination spells the end of all smiles and laughter
Knocks on the last door to oblivion or precipice
Only by God’s grace that I would jump to the bate and get angled to life again
The story of the journey is difficult to narrate
Because it is told by those who have scares
By those who dare to cross the bridge despite the predicament
By those who have been touched by divine providence under the spell of catastrophe
By those who endured the loneliness under the shadow of pain
Under the pangs of pain and never cry a worthless cry
The silence of the night so quite like the depth of the stab of the pain
All love bite and blow of a thousand kisses assuage the pain by the loss of mind
But never stops the pangs pump in conscience
Soon the presence of love becomes a damp squib
All feelings, hearing and thoughts become pale
Like the window pane during winter rain
Soon the presence of love becomes no more,
All fervour becomes history, except cold and pain
This will go on until only melancholy dominate
Waiting to be extremely wet, disgusting and dry
Everything will be gone by then
Concrete slabs and flags will testify
NNkuna,12 January 2014
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem