Night is barking on the rooftops of houses
In the curved cradle of a pendulum, time sleeps
Like a child. All the houses closed their eyes, their
Voices have stopped. A voice from within me rose
And started throwing gold into the flames of the
Poems of a new generation. The paper could not
Defend itself against the light blowing from the
Lamp, and discarded thought rolled away like a
Chopped off head, on the white reams of paper-
Then, a song captured the simple lessons of
Solitude taught by the night, the origins of
Civilization – the moment, the song grew wings,
It flew away into the dark sky, like a tomb, my
Body was left alone, after the chirping bird which
Had perched there all these days, had flown away.
Now, like a martyr hanged in the forest,
Sun hangs in the trees of early morning – and there
In the hazy woods of tomorrow, rise
The dreadful figure of Gorilla.