I stand
At the hem of a desert
Like a pair of tired eyes
Weary after traversing
Across the molten sands
Drinking my own tears
For sustenance...
When the sand particles
Flow as tears blinding
Those weary eyes
I become all ears
Absorbing the wailing winds
Sweeping through the desert
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
trying to decode such poetic rumination might affect the beauty of the write up...such an unpunctuated flow even in the last line...shows this traversing is continued...it can be felt...just...