Mercy would transpire in the enduring wind at the arrival of every departure.
Time past, present and future die and blossom in one single flower,
Under one faintest moon or one thinnest prism of sunlight.
Past and future effloresce in the never-ending blinks of the eyes,
of the mind; of one’s heart.
Love and mercy;
Mercy and then love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem