Poetry to O.P.Bhatnagar is oneiric visions,
visions dreamy and sleepy,
Reality born of romance
And romance
Which but fading at last,
The smile of Mona Lisa
Mysterious or pretentious,
The dead man comes to life not,
But we relive him
In our thoughts and images.
A poem is a framed sand-dune
Making and unmaking in the desert sands,
If have to view, go there and view it,
What is life, what the aftermath of it,
It is easy to die, but difficult to live for it,
The dead men live in memories,
A saint not a yogi, but a dhongi
The observation,
The hangover of dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem