Strains of music in waves
that gently lap the shore
crash intensely
with the cliff edges;
my life rushes through
taking all I have
own, and am
frisk through flowers
bend blades of grass
and I go on
like a whirlwind,
naught satiated.
Copyright @Sandhya Suri
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem