it is a blank
wall. No, i was
not the one which
put it there.
It is.It is there
we never made it.
when we face it
we forget whether
we have words.
We make signs.
You nod your head.
I agree. This is a
white wall. It has
no scent. You imagine
a vine can give meaning.
the last leaf was the
last attempt. You put
winter there. Like God.
we are speechless.
but even then we
think we understand.
There is another world
beyond words.
It is more spacious.
More understandable.
This is not a white wall.
This is a white wash.And
then the words come flying
into your head like
bees. Stinging all of us
for not telling the truth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem