They say
It’s a secret.
Wind steals a way
Under the knotty tree,
Plunges into darkness
So as to seek
The chill fire;
Its passion-
Vile and wild
Flux well with stormy waves.
An underworld commitment!
-you feel the tempo
But see it not-
The night looks heavy
And heavier still
In the pain of seeing
The dawn.
Having been rocked
On the uneven bed
She listens to
The roaring sea
And the labour
Becomes more a fact.
- -
When I doubted Your existence
Heathen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem