Poezja

Be my soul in outrageous
sunshine of knowledge.
I need a shade of tears.

The barrels were still smoking
after the war.
I will not wake up in morning.

Lightless the day will mourn
for the fallen moon
on the breast of a hill.

Tear down the curtain.
Let me sea the face of death.
I have a long debt to pay.


Satish Verma