اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
When you lose your gaze in nimbus musing,
when tears spill and rain blur
into one smeared stain,
when highway sighs,
the chime in ears pressed to ground,
the sound between them,
merge into static white:
Wait for lightening sky;
watch cirrus claw the sun to noon;
touch tongue to wound, fingers to flame;
Name your fears: They wither.
