Slanted old wooden lamp posts
Hold the high tension cables
And the asphalt stretched
Silent roads,
Give their broken shoulders
To pass your proud vehicles
You go in situ and no more?
And the rest do their
usual schedule.
He who sings this unchanged melody
from a safe distance
And they cry in the life-theater
The poor audience?
*[My wife called me yesterday from the Temple that somebody has taken her pair of sandals at the threshold and she came home hardly barefoot? I didn't believe this as I thought it's another April Fool's message.Then I said; ' Not to worry, probably a poor worshiper like us must be fled to Nirvana suddenly, who knows? ']
nimal dunuhinga
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