No Title Poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
No Title
if ever i'm looking for the twigs then
i gather one by one
it was not due to
the fuelwood will always be gray
but it is the gift of god
twigs always there
but the place was i know
if once i know where
it is located, a road map but
still i don't know
where the cities laid there
the bells-whistles town
there is also a quiet town and
we looks like the port where the coming
and going of ships
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 4:46:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
