Some times.
Not the sum of our times,
But their integration,
Amounting to a complex iteration,
Confuses me,
As if I were confuscious,
Bejewelled wide and open,
With eyes of a hunter,
Puma stalking the Amazonian nights,
I wonder,
Bemused,
Shocked,
At the ability of men,
To think,
Perceive,
And believe,
They can hoodwink the world.
Tilt it right,
From its 23 and a half degree slant,
And slang their way,
Into the waltz of eternity.
Hardik Mahesh Vaidya.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem