My brother Ajit's slumber
races to the depths of the blue
The emptiness flowing through the fissures of the net
becomes bridgeless as it blends with the absolute void
The current is buried in the folds of silt
We float upon anxieties
The pigeon is unable to fly such a distance
over the blue forest expanse
The pole's news says it won't pass along the pole
The path sits in idle passiveness
It's impossible, Ah! impossible
to transmit your news to you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem