In twilight,
the noose tightens─
and shadows start walking
towards you; to reclaim
your anonymity─
and declare in deadpan manner:
the author is dead.
Your smallness goes
on sale. You are subjected
to scrutiny by the small print, but
the truth escapes from lidless eyes.
A private punishment.
There was blood on the knife.
Why did you write a
sanguinary poem for your savior today?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem...It' s really a private punishment...Beautiful lines... Why did you write a sanguinary poem for your savior today?