On a winter noontide
A lost poet adulates a discreet muse,
Memories of a foggy romance
Closed in a bottle of perfume
Release a dim smoke,
The frozen sun hangs under a tree trunk,
Spreading scents and purple lines,
Something sets like a dead heart,
Bored of light.
The streets dreams of warm rain
Agelid hands stroke an unknown shoulder,
Gliding very slowly,
As giving up a sick expiration.
A new horizon like an embossed paper
Cracks and opens,
Hope races again, wading the arid
As camels in the desert.
Absence in a longing heart,
Coldness of a stranger's look,
A bansuri flute playing for a flash of joy,
These are things which move a poem,
In a mandala, circling around
Heavens and hells
Of the flaky souls.
Topic(s) of this poem: beauty, life, poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.