I had a simple childhood,
A mother and father to take care of me,
No war at my doorstep.
Stones
Sang canticles in my mouth
As darkness rose.
Love, love where are they gone?
Father, mother, ink dark stars,
Singing stones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well conceived and nicely encapsulated with artistic brilliance. A work of art. Thanks for sharing Meena..