A POEM BY
MUJAHITH SHARIF
With string strung and sent swirling
the top going round and round
on the ground
your countenance with
fury spread
either wholly or partly
not as before
tiny little pimples
Ha I forgot to tell
Unlike as always
now you laugh even in rage, Maayaa…
We keep swirling,
going round and round
awaiting the day when the string-force
would break apart.
For ever or for this day only
your eyes turned moist with love
not as before
small little silences
Ha I forgot to tell
unlike as always now
now I laugh even in sorrow, Maayaa.
நூல் சுற்றிவிட்ட பம்பரம்
No comments:
Post a Comment