It is but a fire poem,
How does the funeral pyre burn it,
How does the body of flesh and bones
Turn to ashes
And how does fire extinguish it
Without fulfilling its promise?
A Parsi
While passing through the ghat,
He chances upon to see
The pyres, wooden logs, bones and ashes,
The embers, the flare up,
How the tongues of fire?
He remembers how one day
He consigned his first born babe
To the fire flames
As the Tower of Silence was away
From his place.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem