One fine morning
I woke up from a deep slumber
I could not remember
How long I had been sleeping
Suddenly I felt something was missing
I searched all over on spec
And removed the soft pillow
I found my specs bellow
A soft pain was slowly waking and mounting
I had lost my pen
In my house there were cup boards of pride
When my beautiful wife entered as bride
There were shelf load of patience
Comfort and ignorance
I used to keep my pen near my heart
And confiscated it on the wedding night
I asked her about my lost pen
She murmured in kitchen
I was hopeless and could not keep the things in place
And how her time was wasted
I went out to the street
Near the dustbin
I found the boy
Whom I had never met
As thousand cars passed by
No one noticed his search for pinch of life in that garbage glut
I asked the boy
Did he find my pen?
His eyes were vacant when he realized his existence
I talked to the river of lost love and emotions
The whirlpool and current showed the road to a dead sea
I embraced my head
Placed my feet on concrete road
I forgot my pen ….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
‘…I talked to the river of lost love and emotions // The whirlpool and current showed the road …’to a dead sea…’ Perfect ikon icon word-visual of pathos of poetry …and poetically glittering ...with awe… Ms. Nivedita 10 UK