Light and slabs of colour
The street
Furs and shoes and ties
Wet asphalt
Tires a-squlech
No Sir
Minutes
No waiting
Red and amber drizzle sleet
Chilled fingers, shrinking palms
Ears like champagne.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A diplomatic party- - the wait- - the coldness inside and outside so nicely expressed.
Thank you very much, poet Bharati Nayak. You have read my offering with keen empathy. You have prompted me to keep trying to find words for impressions which pass through the mind to fast to verbalise. I cordially wish you success and wellness.