Ploughing the mud of complex day
The shadow of long fatigue has descended-
The illusion of a gloomy evening-
As if blowing along the meditation of a Yogi
Flowing is the time line.
Then-
Night falls-
With the stream of moonlight
Beautiful sky -
In the window-
There falls the light of sprouted youth of full moon-
Complete silence is expected.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem