Unlocking,
the silver knife.
The poetry matters,
when it is dark.
*
Night,
has its own secrets, when,
dew spreads out
the beadings on grass.
*
Blackbuck was ready
to shed the antlers.
Moon was hornless.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem with limited lines and liked it.