My gods have a thousand eyes
a thousand pair of hands and feet
They travel up and down,
edgeways, sideways,
and diagonal on fleet mounts
They see, hear,
sense and feel,
and taste the succulent
deeps of time and space
They love; they know
nothing of hate and death,
nor the extinction of life
Their erudition
is far worse
than our tiny tots.
But they are eager to learn.
We teach them
the art of deception and despair.
Now they are very much like us.
We have sprouted wings.
Murali Sivaramakrishnan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem