We are the walking shadows
Two skin sacks of emptiness
Feeding on the fires of craving
Each burning in flames of other
We survive in the open jail of home
Pegged to the curse of marriage
Buried under stones of our partners
Stinking with the stench of life
Hanged down to memories
We Swing between life and death
Chance and choice won the
The vicarious bet called life
We dance to the music of silence
Sensibilities sacrificed distinctions
Stretching spheres of split seconds
Biting the dry bones of memories
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem