It is at night dark around
Time I don't count
Sit to write poem
You start playing on violin then,
My writings do not make sound
Your violin sounds
Loud to louder in my mind
And stops my writings,
Melody goes out piercing heart
Reaches my soul
And adds to the gathered pains there
Of cruelty of mankind,
Cutting, burning, firing alive humans
What do they do?
Many people know those tragedies
But nothing they do.
Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 07/02/2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My writtings make no sound.Cutting, burning, firing alive humans many people have nothing to say knowing these.Nice work.