Shadows of men fall behind them
covering their tracks
taller now, that the day is ending,
soon in darkness
all paths troden, will be
Those who cooked over fires of hell
now closed the doors behind them
so now we are here
full stomached,
but who cooked what?
Where?
But smoke channels its way
to the eyes
drawing irritant tears unforgetable,
but that too
dries in face of forced smiles
Ghosts that haunt us
stay in check,
chained at bay by laughter of friends
only to unleash
infront of mirrors when we lone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A really great poem, like it.