1 may 2014
LIKE A CHINESE LANTERN
At the end of the thought
was sadness.
When temple lies broken
a little white lotus comes up
on the tranquil lake.
A cute word enters the lone voice,
stands down, collapses, retreats into silence.
A chaste tree becomes a sage
and tenderness of the ash turns into an elegy.
The moon-face has frost on the eyes.
Tears blaze the lips.
Unbounded grief holds the space between
sobs, a bodiless spark.
Moons ago when sleep was a fragrant
gift, the song never touched the earth.
That dream sways like a Chinese lantern
without enthusiasm.
Satish Verma
30 march 2026
wiesiek
30 march 2026
absynt
29 march 2026
wiesiek
29 march 2026
absynt
29 march 2026
absynt
28 march 2026
absynt
27 march 2026
wiesiek
25 march 2026
wiesiek
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka