Of spoils of whom I tell
In the lapse of which my memories fell,
I recall a blurry grey voice
Which tasted ice, for fire to suffice-
“What watchful eye the predator wears
Incessant intrusions of memories engageâ€
The answer to his statement I do seek
When moon is shy and night at peak.
An impasse and intricate cogs
Muddle my sight of prayer,
Then a voice which sounds far but seems near
Screams loud for me to hear:
“Long have I been in a ceaseless epoch
Burning in the rivulets of reveries
But then a voice so abhor from my abyss I made
To thwart my appeasing forlorn fateâ€
I feel such voices every night
When time’s nimbus cloak lullabies my sight.
Outside the morning sleeps- Away from light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, really like it, a great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, Time machine.