Last night
moon was following me
discreetly,
skirting behind the trees.
A white splendor
drips,
like a dropped coin
on poor’s hand.
Did you see the blood
on roses?
The petals were wounded
in rain.
Casual violence
spreads in the streets.
I write a very hurt
poem.
sad though, but invokes the pathos we all are facing these days.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i like it it hits everything right on the nose