The night of pain
Deep grows
Wiith every dusk
Wandering as a deer
In search of musk.
Wantonly wanders
Throughout its life time
Chasing fragrance
Which is in air
Endless travels
Some leasure walks
Some blitz gallops
Finally to meet
A steel jacketed bullet
Gazing the void
With eyes dying
Only to find the
Fragrance being Carved out
From his grion
Soothingly it closes eyes
For its chase met with an end
For whole life
It was stuck up with illusions
Trying to make a way out
From the ways counted millions
Of the labirynthine soul
For death showed the
Ultimate way though
Death played foul..............................
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem