There is no one in the dark room
No one at home
No one to talk to
And nowhere to go
Pacing down the side streets
Following up glad eyes
Flirting to quieten
The fever over my brow
With no one to pester
No one to please
I curl around the corner
And cry all my woe
What with no roads to the distant
And none nearer to the heart
With no itch to stay
And no ache to go
I ask
Oh wanderer from nowhere
Where are the Gods? To whom
You bow
Murali Mar 88
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem