Red ants
of unsettled feuds
ail in my cerebrum
and spinal cord…
dear friend,
give me the medicine
of poetry,
let get my blood cold…
Spread the sedative
of poem
before taking me the knife.

Her mind is the lake
where the rainbow rests.
I stolen the lake
that she withhold to me.
now, I colour to my life
with the shades adopting from the same.

I visited in the market
where the pain is selling.
I saw number of poets,
came to possess sufficiently
where displayed number of captivating pains.

Even though, my God,
I couldn't adopt
any pain fitting to me.

Telling and telling
It has become hollow

Writing and writing
It has worn out

Hearing and hearing
It has fed up

But will not get sufficed
After experiencing how, how, how much…

I shake awake in the sleep…
The invisible dialogues, unable
to distinguish from darkness
vexes me...
I have heard the sob of the horn bill of the freedom
throughout the half broken dreams…
you also may blame me like my mother
that it’s because not pray to God when I go to bed…
For how many ‘freedoms’
I've been kept decorated
in the living room?
the fishes in aquariums
are not the beauty kept in the glass pots
but freedom closed in the glass…
While the fishes argue that
the three quarter of the world has made for them,
looking towards the open canopy of freedom,
the love birds, quibble me from the cages
that what I caged is the word of ‘freedom’ itself.

Doubtlessly, creating Auschwitz cells in living rooms
how can I speak about the freedom?

Having exempted the birds towards canopy of indulgence
the fishes to the sea of the rights,
I went to fly in the freedom of sleep
forgetting to pray to God…
then, I know
the birds from the canopy of indulgence
and the fishes from the sea of the rights,
are praying God for the sake of me…