The callous looting of hard labor is not the most dangerous

Torture at the hands of police is not the most dangerous

The alliance of treachery and greed is not the most dangerous.

To be captured while just hanging out is terrible,

To be pushed into frightful silence is terrible, too

But it’s not the most dangerous.

Being forced to stifle one’s truth

in the noise of corruption is distressing

Reading in the light of fireflies

Clenching one’s fists and just passing time is excruciating

But not the most dangerous.

The most dangerous is to become full with a deathly silence

The inability to be tormented by agony

and bearing it all

Taking off for work from home

And returning home from work

The most dangerous is the death of our dreams.

The most dangerous is that watch which

while ticking on your wrist

stands still in your eyes.

The most dangerous is that eye

which witnesses all, but remains ice

Whose vision forgets to kiss the world with mad love

And slides down on the steam that rises from the blindness of things

That drunk on everyday routine

Loses itself in the aimless repetitive shuffle.

The most dangerous is the moon

which rises in the deserted courtyards

after every massacre, every genocide

Yet fails to burn like chillies in your eyes.

The most dangerous is the song

which mourns to reach your ears

Puffs up its chest like goons

at the doors of terrorized people.

The most dangerous is the night which descends

on the skies of a living soul

Where only screeching owls and growling wolves

Cling on the gates and door steps of everlasting darkness.

The most dangerous is the direction in which

the sun of the soul can set

And where a piece of the sunlight’s corpse

Can pierce the east of your body.

The callous looting of hard labor is not the most dangerous

Torture at the hands of police is not the most dangerous

The alliance of treachery and greed is not the most dangerous.