These veins are ink
On the plane across the window
To write itself
The perspective goes too deep
Where either the sun sets
The moon is on the rise
The tree in front never grows more
The flowers fall soon
Enough rains
Enough of the warm breeze
Create an illusion
Or sink deep
Fly in the air
Run like train on a track
Sing a song for soul
Say as many prayers
You and I know
How long we will stay here
Islamabad
6/5/2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Finely sculpted…nice imagery…no zigzag…so many options ‘create illusion’, ‘sink’, ‘run’, ‘sing’, ‘prayer’…pick up as you like…musical bonanza and emotional fiesta 10/10 Ms. Nivedita UK