Unseen, unheeded strands of existence,
Unheard is their Sound of Silence,
Dark faces smeared with dirt,
With traces of fear and hurt.
That occasional sound,
The audible pain, is the essence
Of their Sound Of Silence.
Lurking in darkness,
Awaiting light,
Their shabbiness,
What a sight!
Craving for a willingness,
Or least a pretence,
Is how they express their Sound of Silence.
Avinash... This one is really nice... I guess the poets are the only magicians who can make the silence speak...
wow another great piece you are a real talent i bet do read my poems and plz comment
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That occasional sound, The audible pain, is the essence Of their Sound Of Silence. painful descriptions..... i was suddenly thinking of the locked of young girls for prostitution in Bombay. there was once a tv broadcast about it. your present the sounds of silence of the poor and the needy and the ones who are unjustly enslaved. tony