A formless charm
waves to make you―
extraordinary. Taking it
too seriously was sin.
Your peers had
written you off for exile for
your incredible likes.
A long journey
took you to a quintessence
lake without borders.
You went like an arrow―
to take a holy dip for salvation.
What happened―
nobody knows. You were
turned into a white dove,
picking up black words.
Lynx eyed, you are
reading your own birth chart,
under the moon,
unliving death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem