This was the art of killing.
From the dizzying
heights you throw the
vesicants.
Now you need the gliomas
to finish the job.
At wrong time, I was
raising the bizarre questions.
Why the wealth brings-
the change of life?
A wandering pain
caves in, where the moon
looks sick in its paleness.
The massive lies, deep
in dirty tricks after the traffic
of voices.In blank space
I plant my poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Why the wealth brings- the change of life? A wandering pain caves in, where the moon looks sick in its paleness. Beautiful. Highly appreciable lines. 10++ for sharing this poem.