Somewhere the ruffled wind sings a lullaby
who else will
when the hiss of death audible
from below the tree of govt.
The sky covers him from the paws of winter.
Barren was his wife
who gifted loneliness and went.
His swollen feet love the earth,
hug it closely always.
He calculates his age more often,
sleeps to wake and listen to all those.
27-11-2010 Keshadurapal
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem