In faraway wilderness
A region of desolation
Where there is no moisture
And the wind carries a stab.
Growth of plants in decline
Few dry leaves struggling to survive
Dust of waters gone into the sand
Blowing the skittles into your eyes.
Amid those melancholy shades
Still thoughts that take birth
Each thought creating a world
Here and there beyond in transit
Paid attention to the dire dearth
To smell fragrance of the Earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem