Your dark skin, Nita, is my prison,
Beyond which I don’t see any
beam.
Your wordless words are its
lock
Beyond which I don’t hear any
din.
There are like me many
prisoners,
Who serve in you for a life
time,
Whereas I shall till death
takes me.
That the freedom is heaven
Is disproved by your prison.
22.11.2002

No comments:
Post a Comment