Was it the dropp of rain hesitating to let go,
Or the lazy clouds preoccupied to change course?
Was it the mercury reluctant to bend low,
Or the grumpy gale downsized to a gentle breeze?
What could have me fumbling through days,
In search of an elusive door among words?
What could get me desperate in ungainly ways,
To excavate queries in ravaged backyards?
Had I steered calm waters expecting a hurricane,
To be presented a coughing extinct volcano?
What can be most poignant this instant,
Which choose half-light to shroud all within?
Could it hold significance in colour decipherable?
That itself is a question, yet unanswered.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem