What a beautiful house I have in Pune,
It is a row-house named Pushpam in Aundh
Named after my mother – fair and firm –
Sarojini Pushpam she was: poor thing!
She died of lymphosarcoma at fifty-five.
This house has two open terraces above,
On first floor: I just went out into one,
And saw the moon, almost full, burning
In a clear October sky softly, gently.
On to the other, same moon looked at me
Through the wooden bars put up there.
It takes less than three hours to drive
From Bandra in Mumbai to Aundh in Pune;
It would be nice to spend more time here
There are some nice kitten like powderpuffs;
All shops outside the gate with all the noises.
From terrace at eye-level there are plants grown
Reminding me of our house in Madurai
16, Kattabomman Street, where we lived
When I studied for my third year B A English,
I used to sneak out to touring talkies at nights,
And come back to lean against the parapet wall
To study the world’s classics, costing six rupees:
When that light was put out by removing the bulb,
I enjoyed the moonlight on the back of bent leaves,
The palm fronds, shining green, and setting
My heart afire with literary and real glow.
Where have they gone? Ay, where are they?
Yes, a modern version in my Pune house,
Only I come here rarely, and miss on all these.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting poem Daniel