illusions...
sand blown by the wind....
the reflection of fire
on the coldest of nights;
the cry of the empty rice bowl.
the violin played in an empty room.
sunlight glaring off fresh fallen snow.
the axe and the boots
standing alone in a corner...
the ticket takers through a glass window....
oil pumping into the mouths
of starving children....
the exploding bombs, bayonets
draped in bright colored flags.
the moment you give,
as if by accident;
and then steal away,
wrapped tight in your cocoon!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem, great write. You want to charge For the ad under my comment.(ha ha) .