Pure Steel Poem by Satish Verma
Pure Steel
Coming near the incarnation of an
unknown, sunflower seeds were cracking.
Trickling down the cleavage of a tormentor
reaching near the edge of poetry.
I ask you to clamp my name, the
gash on the book was bleeding.
Was it discretion of night to decorate
a battered and abused body of a doll?
Naked you cry on the shoulder of the moon.
This was my prophecy, this is my fate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 2:43:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
