Lost Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
Lost
Lost
The best is, getting lost
In, on, roads and alleys
Not knowing any house
Neither out, nor inside
Pets, people, roofs and walls
Everything strange; look new
On all side; left and right
Suddenly, an angel steps out
Lifts your heart, mind, and parts
It is cold but burning in numbness
Though is day, is midnight in a bar…
This is why the fruit of the vine
The scared lost maker, is divine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 8:24:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
