Death leaves a
wintery trail.
A cavernous soul
Of blazing agony.
Plants a flower
near the
stony heart,
on lonely evenings.
Love has been
distanced to divinity.
Reminisced as one
among Angels and Gods.
Love isn't dead.
Death has
turned more humane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice one Kumar Read my poem If You Can See