I am red
I slay myself in my wilderness
I am liberation,
Curling in front of my mirror…
Me,
With my nostalgic presence
Lying on a peacock painted turf,
A hawthorn standing there alone,
Behind my half- closed door
A tug of war within me,
Reversals,
Mowers too…
And on every birthday,
they give me
a set of
static collections...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i have been able to read you Mminnu in the lines: I am red I slay myself in my wilderness I am liberation, Curling in front of my mirror… it is really transporting: back and forth and back and forth like cradle from brith day to birth day.. jaypeescopies@yahoo.com. jayaprakash kovilloor, amboori, trivandrum