Here in this city
where dust drifts
Settles on you pretty
much so swift
Dont let the dust
Settle in your heart
It will surely rust
Your emotions n impart
A deathly crust
Which will crumble
Your heart
Here in this city
Where everything is so loud
My cries are not heard
Getting lost in the crowd
Wish I was a wandering cloud
That rained on the city
My drops, it endowed
A sparkling vision
Without the dust
Removing the crust
From your heart
A profoundly imaging concept here, T.O.....Your keen sense for innovation, is always a pleasure to the Readers Eyes & Mind..'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''F. j. R.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That was an illusion in your pretty eye Where you saw some dust, as you fly! You are the gifted cloud, yet you cry For that same heart that’s no more my! Hey! The deathlike scab is an illusion. Just write and don’t bother this confusion! You are an angel cloud, you must wander Rain those limericks and don’t surrender!