The Perspective Fault Poem by Satish Verma
The Perspective Fault
With a live moon between―
us, you were staring beyond me
in blank looks.
Shackled, you hang―
from the past praises.
In a crematorium you will now spend
a night with some noises
in penitence.
You have to come out from
the old scripture and invent
a new libretto.
No breathing room was left
in the crowd. Would you
become a little wee taller?
Meanwhile I will listen to bird songs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 11:45:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
