... On a long, dark road,
That is crushed by millions each day,
Voyagers or travelers walk together,
Meet and see each other,
For a second or for hours,
Then vanish in the crowd
Pacing their battling legs and vision.
Spreading their racing legs and sight,
In other parts of the city,
A city seized by boundaries and fear,
Trade spirit and intelligence,
When cadaver swap,
The character and spaces;
Cannot be fixed but images can,
But hold images non-negotiable…..
By a colossal oak, flew nearly:
Unfaith in self but wants faith in all.
Or tiny pitted crumb in artificial fruit,
Sleaze crept among the nights,
Patriots die in battle for the king,
Their women on their corpses- -in open field.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem