As though air fills the canoe
at high speed;
around dark thoughts life surrounds
in super ego;
Age holds the template in melancholy...
Fires enter into the chest
Robbed the mouth, ate the pain
Happy that it still holds the domain
until dark:
So do the adolescence:
Years tiptoe to fade on fertile terrain........
Spontaneity!
Who'll presume what! !
let leave every drops of rain
to pour on the ground to nourish
the perish! ! !
let life go on with writhe....
a while or all the while:
Or
appropos to all:
of the total span of words's ways...
when answers arrived, questions unsaid-
wait to borrow; shut the gross mouth
suck all the sounds tiptoed-
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
imaginative...your words there exhibit spontaneous flair...tiptoe on the fertile poem terrain...thanks Mousumi...10