Rearranged the white sitting room – proud of how
yellow flowers lift drabness it was clothed in as the
sun ebbs to its lowest on the horizon, a zenith which
brings such weak light the shady side of the world
looks like a black and white painting. Brought home
more flowers, placed in the corner where my white
lamp stands sentinel, saved from starkness of police
grilling by beads, spider-web festooned strings of
glistening pearl dewdrops. On a chair adorned with
its fabric lion rampant is my hat hung with a purple
scarf – then the coup de grace – silver curlicues on
transparent material placed on the armrests of
the couch – effect is total obfuscation of winter
sorrows, summer colours shining like the sun!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
May there be a repatriation! ! ! ! LIVE! ! ! ! !