there is something really wrong
you have cut yourself off from
the intestines of mankind,
what is it that makes you stay?
that makes you look like a closed jar,
what made you cut off that tongue
what sharp difference have you made
out of that lonely self?
' i am not lonely' he quipped.
and the room fell silent, the wall
embarrassed about its nature.
and the window, compromised
with a smile, perhaps 'well said'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem