Self-Watch Poem by Satish Verma
Self-Watch
Have not crossed the street
in many years
to greet you.
A slice of moon
leaves footprints in blood.
Maintaining the perfection
you start giving names to trees.
Paraplegia:
you start dismanteling the life
in search of romance with death
for immersing the dreams.
Take hold of my arms
I want to invent your portrait
in sands of nocturne.
Drink the milk of silence.
It is dark, but soothing.
Go to sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/12/2024 9:40:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
