Meditation was futile.
He turned his back
from the green prayers.
The state had made a mockery of his love.
The words were not clear
written on the periphery of pain.
He fathered
dust to dust, his light
folded his trembling hands,
lying on jaundiced bed.
Syntax was rising.
He stood alone amidst landmines
malice for none, beast and history.
The stones were falling from sky.
The punished was partaking the blows,
where he was
others were absent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
He stood alone amidst landmines malice for none, beast and history. The stones were falling from sky. The punished was partaking the blows, where he was others were absent. life, events, problems, sadness. very fine poem dear poet Satish Verma. Congrats for becoming POD. tony