Time flows through the knuckle
leaving memory
in the fist
I unfold and see history.
My corpse fallen alone
you’re -no killer-
in a palace
but blood stints on your body; I see.
How amazing
the killer is blood-bathed.
The man killed
frowns at God; you
fail to leave me alone.
My memory is with me.
Keshadurapal,29-11-2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I read all the poems but itz ma fev one sir.....