Like the silence of the winds whispers,
It’s whisk loses everything to those holding nothing
Even a hurried chase, grabs not it’s slip
Like flashes of lightining, and the energy of thunder
Yes, with minuscule pace and breakneck speeds,
Its reflexes executes, chronicling events
immemorial yet present to our unconsciousness
we sleep and wake in manifolds where it outlives us all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem