The drift of sky from this noon evident
Beyond the grief and its stoops
Above the rhythm of mind and strings
Solidaire of the eternity
Leverage of the indifferent grims
Glitz of the indifferent path
Few steps are mythical again
Its the sigh of an empty hand
Laurels are mischevious somehow
To proven the horizon of love and life
Metaphor of the withel stamp
Grains from the froth of symptoms
Glate of the past seems not filthy
There glares the swamps of diversity
Few drawn and swale it with hatred
Melancholy of the evident art
Colours are lethal above the myths
Arguements seems more valid again
A good bye to the strings of life again
Proven asgratitude for a life time..
©2017 SALINI.S.NAIR. All rights reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Few steps are mythical again Its the sigh of an empty hand Laurels are mischevious fine language, , colourful and string of thought...... thank you dear poetess. tony