this one, is for all the conscious minds
this one, is for all the righteous ones
this poem is the song to your life than once
sing song, to all the birds in the sky
too long, the words i say than try
do more, the worth of life is thine
this poem, tolls me back from thee
to my sole self like bees
this poem, took me to the moan of doves
in immemorial elms to rise above
the murmuring of innumerable bees
and listened to the exploits of historical wings
this poem, is the rays of the morning day
this one, walks to the saints of souls
to wipe away a flood of tears beyond today
this one, is the foot to our journey
this one, is the hand to our many
this one, is the mirror to our any
this poem, saith in matter from thee
to my sole self like bees over hill top
this one, is the arrow to the mental feel
that unravished its bride of quietness
this one, is the metapoetic silence
of the foster child of silence to their kindness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem