Shut down the twilight , purge off the certain，
Let the dark make a curtain；
Voiceless nightingale, feeble irises，
such a tranquil pantomime Nature shows，
With the dark absent, never more glittering the fireworks；
Just as we were born for the night，
Renders itself meaningless the white；
Just as if yesterday were dead，
We are condemned to live today by god.
YOU ARE READING
The monsoon literature
PoetryOur self is always so distant a leap from the surroundings. Literature is the medium of the minority to revolt, to state existence.
