Silence will not be the form of you in me
at the edge of fate, we scream
the last sigh of our exiatence.
The veins of trees are visible
devoid of leaves, as if free of all pretexts.
No where to go, blissfully it stands
as the last penance of our outcry.
The veins of trees are visible devoid of leaves, as if free of all pretexts. Autumns elegy looks more of a songs verse than a poetry.Great anthology for autumn here.Nice one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Strong imagery and words that sock a punch! A definite 10 imho.