The rains welled up
On the window panes
The bright lightening
The clapping thunder
And the hideous fear
All could be witnessed
By the naked moist eyes
The garments have been stained
By falling in the puddle
Created by dirty stagnancy
Deep inside a crater
It can be washed clean
But, what about the soul?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem