A towering inferno.
Alternating between rational
Thought and audacious imagination
A bird, with unclipped wings. A
Thing to marvel at…watch as he
Thrives on complexities and subtleties
Sacredness a thing of the past
He, himself, is nothing short
Of a wistful deity.One in a
Perpetual state of purposeful
Contemplation.Affecting deeply
All that he comes across
Eliciting anger and happiness
In a single act.Wilfully granting
The sought wishes - happy and
Sad - with a melancholy vertical
Stroking of the female face. And
Like the ones who spawned me,
I am but a force of nature.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem