Lost Valve Poem by abbas abubakar
Lost Valve
Even though my tongue is tongueless
My fingers would clap their lips
To hum this songs of my tears
Youths have been lost
Youths have been sold
They were sold for four cowries
For bonquet of decayed gold
They were lost in unripe lust
They now carry pot of emptiness
Matching with elegancy
Into the future
Hmm, our crimson velvet
That holds the beauty of our ascent
Is creeping to the hut
Of burnt wood
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 3:30:27 PM # 1.0.0.1119
creeping to the hut, good write, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.