The poison tree.
Where is it?
Is it not within us!
Though not, the tree
Is there, poisonous shades
We see everywhere.
We are our enemies,
We cry for we are
Not active.
But sorry,
Life is not there
In true sense.
Relax my dear, relax,
The dots, commas, lines
Are not ours.
Open tube is opened,
And there is nothing
Therein.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem