Amygdala gives you
space. Rage implodes.
Hottest day gives a blast.
Burn, burn, O leaky
night. You suck the moon
with dust. Language
slips.
How will you invite
rains, without nightingale,
who had left for a
quantum revenge?
Visuals haunt. Ash
will fly. An old touch comes
back. Everything looks blue.
I start collecting old coins.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Satish, such a well crafted poem...10++++