You will never know
where do you start a rough patch
on the road ?

A prehistoric site could not outlive
the humiliation of proximity to hate.
Violence chewed the dust.

My knees give way to anguish of morality:
horror of captivity of dawn.
The eyes are going to collapse in endless night.

Tapping of kernel in hard shell of truth bothers me,
like a mountain dew under the stone.
I will destroy the anxiety of grass.

Death of desire may take place
Fragrance still devastates the moon.

SATISH VERMA