This was the night of
torture. Why the sun went to sleep
in twilight? Black panther turns vulcanic.
Let us make a bargain.
A long deep grave opens the mouth
to receive the guests seeking justice.
If you think about a
myth of a flight in a moonrise,
nobody knocks at the door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Every night is a torture. When sun betrays the days, who can be the keeper of light, of truth! Good poem, Satishji. Top score.