He walks through a road, a lonely or busy. He carries a stick, swings balloons, different colors, each, foran owner different.
He sings a songs, children attract as bee to honey;
Melody heard form distance; small hands search piggy bank, coins few;
Got them at last, dashes every little soul, for gift they grip.
Those cradled cry to mother; mother knew hungry is he, not for food but for balloon red.
Eccentric glow, glows his face, sees his tiny buyers, each small, hopes gleam;
Happiest moment form every child, puny hands, each holdings lantern of joy.
As he passes by, enraptures every baby, happy he makes every sweetie.
A transitory balloon gives a joy of interim happiness.
Shrink, burst; don’t you cry, for sure, your balloon man will come tomorrow and the saga will continues.
By point by point the poet has made a clear image of Balloon paddler those are in village festivals in Kerala wandering with the Balloons.A good poem and likes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good description of a balloon peddler