The freckles were
appearing on the face
of Venus―
Arms broken.
A man-eater was shot
dead, while feeding.
The reddened skin
invites a vespa. Sometimes
you love the stings.
You wait for
the sunsets, before the
Venus flytrap shuts.
Drifting on the
dust road, I start
searching my lost address.
How will you hear
my voice?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Face of Venus is amazing to observe. A brilliant poem is interestingly penned. here. Wise sharing is done really.10