Sitting in a pack
In the mid of the rack
The only tremble in the air,
The sound of lecture in bare.
Looking at the going gesture
No thoughts of coming future
Ignoring rather scorning
A blind eye that is
Hearing all the poles on the rack
Discussions one can feel as barks
Emotions pressurizing the hall
Raging, giggling, laughing, slaying
Slaying the thoughts of the other.
A thought strikes me then
Well in round
The sounds that rumble
And gestures that grumble
Are all webbed somewhere
To ideas born elsewhere.
Only some sense-surround
Whose sound of lecture in air
Stays the only tremble in the air.
(shyamsomank.wprdpress.com)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well penned, beautiful poetic imagination! You captured the class room ambience and expressed it so well! I vote this this poem with a 10