Age was selling the
home. O god unravel my pains.
A limited hand drops the curtsey.
Carrying the bier of
past, keep the fear at bay. Lifelong
the love will ask the death to wait.
Why do you go for sale?
The richness of truth was not sufficient?
The uncertainty will teach you one day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem