The veiled buds for
you, living on the moon,
in explicit shades.
Why didn't you leave
a trail of disaster, after
hissing the last breath?
I was to be me,
looking at the clock unblinking,
to stop the era.
We have heard the whisper of cloud after reading your excellent poem. Thank you very much for sharing this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A mystical write about whispering clouds and unblinking as we look at the clock! Nice imagery.