Poem Translated by Mohammad Zaman
Wood Pencil by Faruk Wasif I am a wood pencil. I carry no eraser. I am made of a fossilized dark night and of dark bone. Whatever way you sharpen the core It is nothing but frozen blood of a dark bird and I am his brother.Come with a razor in your hand And sharpen me once again before you write. Hard to imagine. But yes – Sharpening over and over makes me lean. I loose my body. My remains are nothing but few left over petals of Bakul flower. I speak in empty points. Music is the...
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