the slow art of breathing bitter

Endless Night

Sleeping under the quilt of death,

What do you sing, O my love?

Beneath the iciness of the endless night,

Can't I satisfy your life-long thirst?

Trees and bushes approaching a heavy fog;

Misty winds clog the scent of silent flowers.

The tune of the painful voices that came throughout

and broke down with a thud upon my heart, just like a cold ember.

And the sudden hands perished by the shoreline—

And the neem tree remained smiling with a mourning prayer.

Remember the time we stood together, then,

under the disastrous darkness,

And counted the time passing as the clock would strike each hour?

And now I sit near you,

While you hold my chin near your lips.

I can't cry out, bursting for the wagon of pain to come.

I looked at your hazel eyeballs that have remained stiff!

Dark has come on its way,

ignoring a thousand requests for dusty love letters.

Beneath the remorseless night that has riven my heart,

Can't I satisfy your life-long thirst?