The day has a voice
And has ears
But too busy with noise
It says all it sees
Like it's the only one
With a mouth,
The night is deaf and dumb
Quiet and peaceful
It's winds never lift any plumes
From the body of the chicken
It whispers our deeds
When we squat to steal
And others snore on its bed
Darkness heals its ailing ears
It hears and whispers our deeds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem