Last night
moon was following me...

Night was descending
on the tonsured heads...

The twisted moon
moved horizontally...

One day you will arrive.
Night will enter in your pores...

Trapped in your body
a city starts...

Fear of a mound,
tumbling down...

Will you walk with me
on the banks of a silent and invisible river...

On the battle turfs of a vernacular
hunger, the hikes were killing...

Maimed, tortured for love of resistance
this night appears to be...

Inside, the battle wages.
One step down...

When you were rolling in dust,
a puritan said, truth was me...

I have peeled off my eyes.
Fear of unbeing creeps in...