Interview, curfew, and ICU,
Mostly we appear to be Morons
Not knowing His Will.
Where our suffering and
God’s Subterfuge or success
if ordained, divinely bound
That way, make us sit on that
Cordoned or cornered
Passage, with a helpless look,
Seething fear and shiver,
Running in us cap- a- pie.
Sometimes, life surpasses
Takes Its own course,
Bypassing these
Seemingly surgical tests.
These days, three ‘U’s
are intertwined most.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem