no one calls it the silence
when there's no sound
so whispers make the silence
we live in the land of silence
the shadows keep it overlain
insects keep munching in vain
whoever tries to make a sound
the beasts remain ready to pounce
the hunted flesh, we share
the blood, it's a bats' lair
when bones need the chisel
my brother is a good carver
quietly, he uses his abilities
he carves them into trophies
and hang them on the fence
no one ever disturbs the silence
our roofless home is the 'silence'
and i reside on the roof
the trees give us amulets
to protect them from bandits
we don't have a ladder
i couldn't climb down
i could not speak or eat
yet i am life to him, just life!
to live alone, he has to strife
they protect me, maintain me
feed my brother, live free
he, with them, calls me the silence
they all maintain the silence...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem