all leaflets green, hack down in spring
to trim the plant, for pleasant scene
sea wave surge wild, but at shore collapse
roar all that left behind, of wave that breath last
dropp of tears glide, on cheeks dried
for no one to wipe, in loneliness cried
poems deliberated, on fountain of thoughts
but left unheard, those unsought lines scribbled
a canvas deserted, in blackhole of desires,
art at its best, remains mystery unsolved
in storm of death, began a love perfect
all that matter, lover to be secure
person found eternity, alone in cemetery
soul still clings, to the forbidden self-reality
a thought rushed to live, beyond paradigm
dreams hard to catch, those untimely left
…raHUL
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem