I started placing word by word
Like making a building brick by brick
The finest, costly words are imported
So the finest Mansion was built, soulless though.
This is neither poetry
Nor are you a poet, said
My soul in silence blissful
Then what is is it, asked my eagerness.
Leave your pen and empty your mind
Close your eyes and look at YOU, said my soul
The mansion started collapsing
Reduced into bricks were the walls
What I learnt started flowing out
The ornamented rotten words met their fate.
No words, nothing
Nothing but the Light was seen
I looked at it without fear
Thus the finest piece of poetry
Was born, without a pen, Without a word.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem