A drop
Clung to the leaf
at the edge,
waited
Like the maiden
in the ball
with breath bated
So did I
Pause
That stretched till eternity,
broken
By the wind's temerity
.
.
.
.
-! Plop! -
.
.
.
The drop
Lost
In the vastness of the pond
disappears
In memory remains
fresh
The bond
tenuous
Of the dropp and the leaf
So deep
inscribed forever
alive
In me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Something to do with procreation? Well, it suddenly struck me as such! Wow! Taken in (pun) so artistically and appealing. Arya