Lost, stereotyped faces,
Ways long distant.
Pathetic cries heard from the borderland
That begets gory imprints
Mind grows restive
Besieged by leathe smell
Huge, craggy mountains, however,
Touch sky from all direction.
Eyes have cataracts inside
How will they catch glimpses of anything else
Than bare bone like trees
That stand far-flung and at long distances?
O, the indignant ones,
Let once your lying voice of integrity
Reach my ears
To transform all this.
No comments:
Post a Comment