Few things that stick to my conscious
I stick out my neck
I leap out in rains.
I want yawn
and say..
I hate it.
Whatever possibly i want to hate.
In what ever quantities
Why every time I am supposed to give into things.
When i know.There Is Nowhere Being Reached by Me.
On those
Let me repeat.. I hate it. Hate it. Hate it. No end
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Last stanza Quite thoughtful..... Impressive