I refuse to underrate
the fog, its arithmetic,
bleaching the dark
words in twilight.
Indelible memory.
You don't behave yourself
writing furiously the names
of god in air.
Song was tongueless.
You could hear the nuances
of cords in rhythm.
Without listening you go
into bliss.
The blue rocks. Black birds
come in groups to commit
shared suicide on the
burning earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Song was tongueless. You could hear the nuances of cords in rhythm. Without listening you go into bliss.........very very poetic lines. verses that touch............. thank u. tony