At sunset, sinking gold
Goaded by great will
Death, painful as birth
Cold wind freezing
The wings of life
And at sun rise
Pulsates
A dark beetle whirrs
The pain at birth
Resounding cradle
Stretches to the grave
The warmth of love,
Like consciousness
Trespasses time and space.
This is beautiful Raveendran and capable of many interpretations I'm sure. For me your poem is a metaphor of the journey from one lifetime to another - with birth and death inevitable, like sunrise and sunset. The constant - love - is always there making the whole process meaningful. Wonderful images. Superb poem. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Eloquent language, Raveendran. I love to think of the sunset as, 'sinking gold'. Warmest regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a poem touching the soul to moon