When words die, I
wake up the pain. There was no
need of any elegy. A timeless scream rises.
We make faces. The
quest for the name begins. How not
to die after becoming wiser than god.
Your slanted smile makes
you real. No wish for any mirror. The
makeup is for the temple.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well crafted poem. Very thought provoking.