I Survive You Poem by Satish Verma
I Survive You
A bohemian moon
was following me,
playing in the hands
of dark night.
Man's marrow, the
essence of truth,
drips from the wordless
poem.
Hanged from the
gate, a wreath of capsicums
and citruses to ward off
the evil eyes.
You avoid the debate.
I wanted the perfect answers.
Wearing a hawthorn crown
does not make a Christ.
Every religion has its own pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/19/2024 4:12:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
