Skip to main content

Ink spilled on a white cloth,
night ran away
after a long sleep.
I recalled the day
when
a crowd stared at me
for
a patch hid a hole in my garment.
The white
and
the black
quarreled.
All existence rests on this duel.

[Translated by Arvind Gigoo]

Rate this poem
No votes yet
Reviews
No reviews yet.