They all refuse when I tell
the sky, hills, oceans and
trees it is you for your ‘will ‘
you take the responsibility
of my poetry to carry from the
top to the bottom of abyss to
the heart of stones and promise
to preserve it pure till the sun dies
yet when the wind of your whims
blows out, you wanted me to edit, pardon me,
please, I did drop the pen in the
water of ocean..I could not do it again...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem