I threw it out of my window.
It was stinking like a dead horse.
The stench formed clouds in my sky,
And poured down as memories.
I threw it far away in a desert.
At night, a scorching wind burnt my face
I buried it under the soil.
I slept with my windows shut,
Yet, the skeptic in me was awake to see its return.
I need to cremate it.
It's my love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great start with a nice poem, Sarath. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks