The Music Of Sublime Dawn
A buffalo through the darkness turning
into a bunch of hellish roses, dances to heal
the malady of long hiking
Am I touching the wounded bees in reverie?
The palmate leaves shrinking and turning gray
Do we know what is there in the depth
of mortal dances?
A corrupt wind blows over the delicate hearts
during the monsoon and a zigzag path sprouts
to show its broken legs browsing the hazy world…
No pillow, no bed-cover can solve
this problem of sleeplessness , this servitude,
this crude growth of calibans, this haunting deserts
this heartless waves of neighboring…
To remember the grace of flying plumage,
only your smiling face adrift on alluvial lands can
bring the music of sublime dawn .
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