'Your face more precious than my spectacle'-
It was the opening dialogue.
She simply spitted on his face
'My love is more precious than your spit'
She cried aloud and
didn't utter a single
I hear only time echoes 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate'
'If hate be the existing trauma
none could bear ones BIG within'
He returned and threw a stone into the sky......
Pranab k c
Edited on 01/08/2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem