Mountains to valleys and valleys to mountains,
Once ocean now land, once land now ocean,
Rocks reduced to soil, soil compacted into rocks,
man goes to dust and dust to man,
All in cycles, who makes? At whose will?
Then why am I smeared with calumny or harmony
While none of my deeds are independent?
Arrow, Bow, Hunter, his hunger, his birth
Or its birth, which is the cause for the one hunted?
09.01.2001, Pmdi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem