The profound sound of silence,
the emotions behind a still face,
the wrinkles caused by laughter,
the depth in their gaze.
Where lies the monument,
of their sacrificed thumbs?
Who blows the trumpet,
of their lowly hums?
What dreams do they dream
under their worldly veil?
How easily are they forgotten
in this mysterious tale?
With what hope do they struggle,
what role do they play?
What gift do they seek,
what do they have to say?
“Honesty, kindness and devotion”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A marvelous poem, Shourav
Thank you, kelly