Time Poem by Satish Verma
Time
The noiseless violence.
You don't speak to yourself.
It was cold inside―
the sleeping volcano.
The years roll like
the yogic flying.
Bearded― you are not in air
not on land.
The revolt is my acid test.
Fingers become blind.
Cannot move in the valley
of faceless questions.
Deaf and dumb.
Mannequins stand in a
row to be covered up by the
glittering awards.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 10:12:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
