Tonight moon will write a poem
on my hand
about an almond love.
I find a breeze.
Nightmare: I was caught stealing words
from your lips, a lark
flies into death, paralyzed
by peace!
I will have the baby, I cried
at the insult to a rape
of truth, after the brawl
Pyramid was not made in a day.
Who slept in the arms of ambers?
Look, it was an atomic illusion of a guilt
of centuries. Time walks with bowed head
like a blind man.
Baked brown in heat of wars like
a salted pistachio, perched high on dry
grass, a swallow watches the rising
lake with no stones floating.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Baked brown in heat of wars like a salted pistachio, perched high on dry grass, a swallow watches the rising lake with no stones floating. FABULOUS MASTER PIECE.......FANTASTIC METAPHORS AND SIMILE..........10/10