Saturday, July 24, 2010


She has fallen
not for you
but for your poems
For that they hired your soul
and disfigured,
in every breathing second
In translator keys you die
Streams of a river
now lowered and in deathbed
of a dry land
poetry arrived to you
in one spring or in monsoon
let me tell you
they will kill you
in translator keyboards
bear it for present
which lies on a past
and future she sees a coffin
not for you
but for your poems
like a procession
to a cemetery in translators

1 comment:

  1. When I read those translations even I get the same feelings. Not only Neruda they even kill all great poets and chase and haunt the ones who love poetry. Timely write..