The graceful water can not know
The pang of a burning bonfire
The birds in sky that voyage free
Can not know , can not think
The pain and songs of a standing tree.
The breathing body doesn’t know
The silent tears of its ghoulish shadow
The dust flies up and mixes with air
But doesn’t know the countless whiplash
The frictions ,and agitation of the ground
From which it’s really took birth.
The rainforest of flaura and fauna
With murmuring streams and lucid river
The exuberant life throbbing in every corner
Doesn’t know the curse and cry
The destitution and parchedness
Of a desolate, dry ,dying wasteland.
The horizon doesn’t know
The distance of East from West
Or the chasm between earth and heaven
Neither the sundering of day and night
The vast vaccum that fills them up.