Space has all the silent approval,
truth will not multiply.
Another funeral takes place
in the barren field of lies.
Fire burns the life’s hopes,
while town mourns the death.
Sunshine bakes the eyes
but truth will not multiply.
Desireless peak of thoughts
sets out the smoke,
towards our homes,
trampling the shame, guilt and hurts.
We were still indulging in useless talk
but truth will not multiply.
Virtue has a unique impulse
a drone in the ears.
Fog was waiting for the sky.
The planet empties a bucket of sorrow.
I will favour the faceless name,
but truth will not multiply.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A million or more had gathered, came to see the spectacle, to thread the needle and be reflected back. Every face was counted. Every eye, and divided. A raindrop came as a gift for each guest. It soaked into the earth connecting everybody when the lightning struck.