Harish k. Thakur - A River Flows Back

In the country hall of Lescovac
Echoe the pangs of past,
The young Roma lads
Sing their way
Into the hearts of all.

The soft necks
And the lissome ups
Swagger over the pulsating bellies
As the girls flirt
Over the hidden landscapes.

A deep voice surfaces
From the unknown corner
And rips apart
The vale of silence
I have worn.

A sequence of tragedies
Takes shape
And you become numb
Over the macabre acts
Committed by times,
And the ill fate
Flung on to the innocent people.

Harish k. Thakur

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