No reason to sleep
without eyes shut. A candle walks
to measure the contours of the moon.
The pink eyes of flames
start firing on the water
to spark the poetry of the deacon.
We will come back
to the burning ghat to bow down and
the urgency of going home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Loved it. So beautifully written. Thanks.