Stone-Faced Poem by Satish Verma
Stone-Faced
Your interpretation
was a miracle of
unbelieving. I was not
a flesh eater.
Between paradise
and a hut, lies the sky
of colored dreams. You
lean forward to―
pluck the moon.
So stoned, was the
sinister design, that
you walked straight
into the arms of stings.
It has become a
strange saga, when a
moth burns, without
a candle.
A sun nosedives with
a water motif on the lips.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 7:33:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
