Masada mountain --
The miniature sculpture
I made of clay yesterday
Sits like an elephant this morning
Its forehead stained by blood
If colours could speak
It is my retired wish
The traveler who left traveling
Like a fighter trapped inside the lotus nest of arrows,
I sit watching trees falling all around me
The beam of light around the golden Buddha
Al Aqsa mosque reflected in the mirror
The shadow that walked tall in the slanting sun
I search the pieces in the forest of rains
Your vibrating voice traveled the seas to reach me
This time,
You're the survivor
I am the sufferer
The shining pieces of the broken mirror
Poets still walk on this earth
Even after several deaths
If mirrors could speak
It would be our story
Long live, poetry!
(From the collection, 'Dream of the Butterflies ' by Sreekala Sivasankaran)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have lost my heart to this brilliant poet