We stood in front of the political hoarding.
Vote for........You will be free from.............
Don't vote for.......bleeding, pleading.
His eyes gleamed with admiration.
'Do you see the truth in it! '
Perplexed I read again, with consternation,
'well no, not really'
He danced with abandoned joy...
'The whiteness of the paper,
the beauty of the colours,
the play of the light on the images,
the gentleness of the tones
the quietness with which it speaks! '
He stood still again, eyes shining.
'What do you see? ' He asked, smiling.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem