While walking,
I see a lean stranger
In front of me,
Being inquisitive,
I ask him,
'What's your name? '
He remains silent,
Then I ask him,
'Why have you come here, '
This time he also absolutely remains silent,
Being angry and frustrated,
I leave the place soon,
At night when I fall asleep,
A lean shadow appears in my dream,
He whispers to me,
'Silence is the prolific answer of this season.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem