In the greenish swamp
Trapped - your city, culture and belief
from the century old cracks of the mirror
You watch yourself exposed.
No signs of the absolute you
Fragmented into pieces.
From, the deities for sale
and their etched images,
The sore pilgrimage,
And the heedlessly scattered temples,
How long can the heart find peace?
Why be nihilist?
Here, contract makers,
are terminating their deals.
Like the thunder-
Those holy hymns are clashing with each other
The tree of religion hasn't blossomed anywhere.
The truth shall never drown in hell,
The Day of Judgment is at your vicinity,
The omens-
Written in gigantic letters,
and our final destination is predestined.
Oh scholar!
'Do not cover the consciousness with ignorance',
If you want the metamorphosis-
The root needs to be changed.
Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. E.K.L.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
your poem is nice. appreciated, , keepup your good work.