The onsets like the London highway
Bangs!
The booms on the north
the south-east attack,
fears in the cardinals,
in the minds and hearts of the saints
hurt as though falling into its bowels.
The flashback recurs
on the platter of cold.
The pilots-
of the vehicle-affairs
like the romance of the beggar's portrait,
the bags blot-out
lifes who know feeds and kids,
terrorism excuse the call for justice;
duplicates of their old Lords,
The gods are to blame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Suave and swayed the readers mind...tantalising and superb write