Sitting Alone Poem by Satish Verma
Sitting Alone
The shallow incursions
grow louder. I have
burnt my fingers, lighting
the moon.
The future of currency
was changing hands. You
start bargaining for―
the water, the air.
Armageddon: will it take
place in the modern times?
Where are the titans
and the hill?
It slows the search for
the truth. The mudslide was
rising and the buried will
not speak, at peace with themselves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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7/28/2025 3:47:43 AM # 1.0.0
Will it take place? ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.