There was this storm
when the light went out,
it came with bellowing silence.
I was there shaded
by the blinds
of unissued grievance.
I wished the storm to be over,
little things in life mean so much
the storm never realized that.
The storm could even
if not intentionally
kill a beautiful lovers spat.
Hey, twister
bring down the wall
not the home.
Live through the wind
kill a sky
write nice things on the tomb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem