A storm I met and I enjoyed the destruction….
I enjoyed as I saw it’s freedom and conviction
It was directional but with no symmetry…
It was raw but still created a poetry
It destroyed everything but with no real intention…
It was indeed innocent with no pretension
A storm I met and it made me run in it’s own way….
As I liked the pace, but I couldn’t catch it any way
Suddenly I saw it has passed away.. I tried to speed me up..
But I failed as it was already a long gap
I know except me nothing is changed
Neither will anything be..
I know the storm will keep on running even with more pace
It will again destroy somebody.. It will again make him race……
The storm I met, is now only a memory of mine…
A memory which is not dark but much like bright sun shine…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem