Thick frame, thin glasses,
an old spectacles,
a keep sake,
a rarest inheritance
from my dearest dad.
Crises, tensions, frustrations…
Struggles, triumphs, delights…
Life had left its imprints
on my dad’s spectacles.
It betrayed him never;
guided him always.
It’s a mate of his eyes;
nothing could part them
except an attack on heart.
Once he saw me,
now I see him-
all through the same spectacles,
black and white.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem