A thousand torn treaties of trust and truce
A wavering white flag wornout and washed
A prank, a proof of so pure a perfidous prone
Like talking to Turks through crusader texts
Sleepless spirits
Hunched, Hands akimbo
At that same valley;
where the eyes met desires
where the heart met her needs
where the grey met time the healer
A calabash-full of grief
In where compassion was deeped
Cursed, crushed and caused to dissolve
To dissolve away with plenty ease
A fracture-pain tale
Storied in melancholy mien
Of far-gone deeds
'In the youthfulness of time',
Of romeo-julietic devotion
Void yet,
Of evenness on scale's pans
A death they say heralds another birth
A learning, a cue to wake the sleepy mind
A dozen column of soldiers ready to defend
Its time I held my heart in my own hands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem