Life
A bad omen.
A blank moment
Carried away to oblivion
In the mad reckless flow of time.
The hatchet produces no blood,
The severed heart of truth
Infructuous, do not
Bleed its own
Life.
Feels good to read your words, dear poet. Thank You.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Profound poem, nicely written. Full *****
Good to read your comments, Dr Nehal. Thank You