The thirsty eyes of mine
looked for something divine
but found nothing else
than care from few hands
I imagined!
for what this care is
I needn't need these
I wished for few medicines
which may take me to heaven
Now,
I don't seek for a glimpse
from those heartless beams
which stood still,
overlooking the unseen suffering
and sobbing over nothing
they cared for less
than their own welbeing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A refined poetic imagination, Ashwathy. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.