They thought your name was
in a huge letter in the form of manohar hramma
the rock of the estuck stone is forever
leave it! they're stupid, they're failed.
The stone has fallen after the stone on the ground,
there are ruins all around, under their surfaces.
The lost memory; dry grass-time-river-water
the names float, protecting the keba!
The human heart has the right to the land,
those who have established the firm throne,
they were poor, they were not rich.
To gather so much load of stone;
how is their kingdom intact?
The name of the wash in the stream tomorrow is eternal.
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Anik
Always Happy
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The Solstice in Bad Gumption
‘How do we go about it?’ The group of three men and one boy shifted from foot to foot around a bonfire spluttering sparks in the bone chilling drizzle, a few hefty stones sitting amid the flames. They were thinking about all the time it took to get it going in this weather. Someone sniffed, someone coughed. They all felt cold and uneasy standing at the edge of the fields sprawling in front of them in the dusk, with their backs to the dripping birches surrounding the cemetery.
By Katarzyna Popiela day ago in Fiction
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