Memories I have, bell-birds
ringing in the heat of the day
and a secluded spot, words
unable to drive away
the sound of bell-birds ringing
and overpowering speech.
I dream I hear them singing
but dreams still stay out of reach.
Glorious years and years cold
have intervened, and yet still
although I’m left, feeling old,
and though I’m left, feeling ill,
the dream remains and is wine
to keep inside me. At night,
I remember, dream I’m fine
and young, the bell-birds, the light.
Returning, and thirty years,
silence and dark reveries,
there are no bell-birds, I fear
all that’s left are memories.
Memories are like bell-birds. Keep them alive by writing beautiful poems. Best Wishes. Naseer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Memories of bell birds are gathered and well expressed through this wonderful poem. The dream remains at night with the light. This is an interesting poem beautifully penned.