it is just three days
but here i am
and it is like three long years
this absence
shall remember the intensity of
not being
incomplete
the sad room cannot put to sleep
the restless sea
as it enters invincibly
in a closed door
something is choking being
and being has to walk away and be with the crowd
on those city lights
along the multitude
of lonely people who at 2 o'clock dawn
still roams
the corners of the mind
one must see a shrink
they advise you
that need to lie down on a sofa
and to begin talking about
anything
it is like a thread and you are crawling like
an insect
like a dropping teardrop
feeling the
dryness of the cheek
finally i give up sleep
and till morning
i think upon what is happening
the sad fact is that nothing really happens from the way they are seeing you
calm, clueless see without a rock
a fish
placid, brown skin without a crease of a trauma
someone looks at you
like a god
but there you are
a wall
you accept and then you put silence in your pockets
the sockets sink
you are getting nonsensical
talking without a clue
as to the meaning
of your
sighs
all these are but the conversations of the soul
losing its faith about
a body
a map that is found in paper
spread on the floor
and being washed away by the rain that seeps
and penetrates
the holes of the roof
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem