Mountains
surround me.
Black ridges
scrape the sky.
Raw lacerations.
Gone are the songs of
hopeful winter birds,
gone to the mountains
of the sun.
In the valley of the moon,
bitter desolation.
surround me.
Black ridges
scrape the sky.
Raw lacerations.
Gone are the songs of
hopeful winter birds,
gone to the mountains
of the sun.
In the valley of the moon,
bitter desolation.
The collection of poems are really fabulous and unique. Simply Amazing.
ReplyDeletePoetry in Hindi
"Gone are the songs of hopeful winter birds".........a beautiful elegy, the loss felt is palpable.
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