It has been raining
All over my poremises
All over my soul
all over my imaginations
all over my love
all over my dreams.
Yesterday one of my friends
put a full stop to his life
I was sure that one day he will end his life
But this happened much early.
What was his problem?
For god’s sake I don’t know
In his suicide note it was written
“my dreams are wet”
What does that mean
Is everyone’s dream dry?
His house was crowed with cries
Whispers gathered around.
When I glared at his frozen face
I saw a room unoccupied was there
It was the room of his existence, now vacant
I don’t know what his dreams were
But I knew some of them
When I saw him for the last time
He was very calm and quiet
He said-love is a trap
After a week he mixed his life with poison
The imagination of his death
was a nightmare for me
There is nothing in this world
Which can put instead of suicide?
Death is a question mark
But a suicide is an open ended question.
When one’s dreams are wet
They kill themselves
Better to keep one’s dreams dry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem