Oh these words
Each word is like a bird
Birds gather on the page,
Like the jets, in the air.
I fly, a take-off and the wind
Beneath wings are the words
Of the book that I read…
The niggers, backbiting and
Healing or dying on one’s own
Left alone with logic or without
It is “Heart of Darkness.”
And I soar to skies not only
Some blue, pale, whitish with
Clouds, scattered like, the
Sheep on hillside…
But thrones and spies and
Jallad…this devil with the
Sword to lift head off body.
I am now in the book of Attar
With the birds, and in jail, and
Kidnapped; I fly on the words.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem