When I lose hope on anything or anybody,
it feels like power cut in that area of thought.
Somebody in me gropes for a match stick!
Somebody ever unseen offers a match box!
Striking is done and a flame is flashed.
I light a cigarette up and puff in some courage.
The burning end peeps through the cold darkness!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem