geodesics of memory
fractal illusions
soft fields
ragged cliffs
mosaics of beach glass
like sacred icons
and cubist's dreams
compete for reality
old age is like a broom
sweeping every corner
for broken shards
jumbled in a pile of dust
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nicely articulated and portrayed- later part of our human life: old age is like a broom / sweeping every corner for broken shards / jumbled in a pile of dust