One recent evening after dusk I sat repining
My discomfitures and saw the full moon
Staring at me derisively. That night
I slept in fragments. It was almost four.
I fetched myself a glass of water.
Purblind in the darkest hour, I was surprised
By oblong blobs of enfeebled light
From the windows of our studio.
Swaying treetop twigs obscured the sky,
But I could infer, half-consciously,
How the moon in its orbit westerly,
Must have left on my floor elongated shapes:
A skewed up filtering of pallid moonlight.
Barely an hour later on the balcony
The rising sun was pinkening the same sky.
- - -
April,2016, Mysuru
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem