Not In The Town Poem by Golaka Acharya
Not In The Town
The hanging drumstick
sways from the branch
my broken hand in the sling
feels warm;
a quill flutters and flies
I measure my body weight;
you measure yours.
A thatched house
catches fire, wind gushes
people run in
still some are careless
at the other end
enjoy cockfight
and the temple bell rings.
Evening-silence breaks
some gossip and some cry
when some others
carry the bier
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/11/2024 12:00:28 PM # 1.0.0.1119
