Silent books
And a song more silent than those
Sitting around my minaret of painfulness, without a word—
That's all. I never seek more.
Have the books become selfreaders? Meanwhile
The lyricless song was playing in its mind
An appropriate tune—
And the minaret of painfulness is astonished;
Which of these three are you? The question
Is still not important;
If the past and the future have the same tensionous steam in a common river, then that question can be of importance. For the time being,
The stone is the main focus. Pregnant. With all possibilities of blossom
Labor pain moans
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sitting around my minaret of painfulness, without a word provokes thought. Metaphorically many things are expressed here. Silent books sing silently. Amazing poem is shared here.10
I'm grateful to you for your valuable comment, sir.