Round and round
The earth goes;
The wind blows
The electorates…
Whose thumbnails
The ink stains;
The wind blows
Dusty periods.
Do not preach
Changing wings;
Enough of these
Chains and lakes…
Feel the whirl
Dry hot winds;
Our skin cries
Dehydrated we feel.
Do not preach
Future please;
A day after
Clogging our eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem