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ReminiscenceReminiscence

That grave alchemy

of cold fusion,

of turning mercury into gold,

makes me undone

in a fit of anger.

Punished before the crime committed,

of saying no for yes,

of disobedience in the face of a command,

I am becoming a beggar again.

The land of gold dust

evokes a disquieting sadness.

Smell of hunger and blood, takes

me to concrete nothings,

collects the emptiness from the wrinkled eyes.

The lake-salt, dry loaves and onions for a quiet dinner.

Fear in absence,

starts a fear of future,

the sound of unblinking darkness whispering.

Satish Verma

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

REMINISCENCE

That grave alchemy

of cold fusion,

of turning mercury into gold,

makes me undone

in a fit of anger.

Punished before the crime committed,

of saying no for yes,

of disobedience in the face of a command,

I am becoming a beggar again.

The land of gold dust

evokes a disquieting sadness.

Smell of hunger and blood, takes

me to concrete nothings,

collects the emptiness from the wrinkled eyes.

The lake-salt, dry loaves and onions for a quiet dinner.

Fear in absence,

starts a fear of future,

the sound of unblinking darkness whispering.

Satish Verma

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

REMINISCENCE

That grave alchemy

of cold fusion,

of turning mercury into gold,

makes me undone

in a fit of anger.

Punished before the crime committed,

of saying no for yes,

of disobedience in the face of a command,

I am becoming a beggar again.

The land of gold dust

evokes a disquieting sadness.

Smell of hunger and blood, takes

me to concrete nothings,

collects the emptiness from the wrinkled eyes.

The lake-salt, dry loaves and onions for a quiet dinner.

Fear in absence,

starts a fear of future,

the sound of unblinking darkness whispering.

Satish Verma

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

REMINISCENCE

That grave alchemy

of cold fusion,

of turning mercury into gold,

makes me undone

in a fit of anger.

Punished before the crime committed,

of saying no for yes,

of disobedience in the face of a command,

I am becoming a beggar again.

The land of gold dust

evokes a disquieting sadness.

Smell of hunger and blood, takes

me to concrete nothings,

collects the emptiness from the wrinkled eyes.

The lake-salt, dry loaves and onions for a quiet dinner.

Fear in absence,

starts a fear of future,

the sound of unblinking darkness whispering.

Satish Verma

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

REMINISCENCE

That grave alchemy

of cold fusion,

of turning mercury into gold,

makes me undone

in a fit of anger.

Punished before the crime committed,

of saying no for yes,

of disobedience in the face of a command,

I am becoming a beggar again.

The land of gold dust

evokes a disquieting sadness.

Smell of hunger and blood, takes

me to concrete nothings,

collects the emptiness from the wrinkled eyes.

The lake-salt, dry loaves and onions for a quiet dinner.

Fear in absence,

starts a fear of future,

the sound of unblinking darkness whispering.

Satish Verma

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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