Soul dressed in decrepit robe
Of flesh, all tattered, hanging, loose;
Spirits torn, identities denied,
Disowned progeny,
Living on the margins of community;
‘Being’ split into two parts moves
To the beats of drums, tears are shed within,
Silent screams submerged by jingles of anklets
Grotesqueness dances and claps in candy-colours;
Painted smiles, crude laughter lips sing course songs
On broken strings of life,
Begging for ipse, coins burn palms,
Soul scratched by mockery-
Soul that is above any identity,
Equally comes from divinity,
Left suffering silently
In the wilderness of hermophrodity,
searching violently in the jungle of identity.
Grotesque and picturesque.Very beautiful wordings.Noteworthy.
Those desolate souls living on the margins of community and disowned by everyone and searching for identity is a sad spectacle. Their silent screams are submerged in the clamorous sounds around! Their sad plight is poignantly brought out!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your poems are studded with gem like words Yasmeen Soul scratched by mockery- Soul that is above any identity, Equally comes from divinity, Left suffering silently In the wilderness of hermophrodity, searching violently in the jungle of identity.