— POEM 𝒃𝒚 Jayant Parmar
I can clearly count his ribs.
Sweeping the streets,
His spine has worn out,
his dreams ….
𝘛𝘩𝘦 ᒪIᑎGO ᒪE᙭IᑕOᑎ
An Online Literary Journal of Translations
I can clearly count his ribs.
Sweeping the streets,
His spine has worn out,
his dreams ….