Your Love. Poem by Durlabh Singh
Your Love.
Your love was not a love
But just entrapment
Which under urges for
Multiplication of humanity
You involuntary scribed to
Set up for elopements in
Some mundane lores of sanity.
Like a flying nocturne insect
Caught in flowery sickness
On your facial prettiness
The curse of sensuality
Form roundness of your limbs
The daily game of extractions
To enrich your mortal bones
Ease of mind but crude of tones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 10:25:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
