Summer wind's fussing 'it's hot, so hot'
Say I 'never mind, blow a lot a lot'
Cleaning the storeroom I too hiss and shhhh
Neaten things segregated
Fussing over a rusted kettle dated an ancient A.D
Set of playing cards, token coins some decades old
Used plastic boxes, bottles, plates etcetera my daughter's age
shameless umbrella- frame, plentiful tamil magazines
so old and loathsome...
Then I open a trunk full of clothes
Hiding a cane box underneath.
Ah, treasure resurrected
Take out a spectacle, put it on, suits me
Happy tears roll down
Summer wind's fussing 'it's hot so hot'
Say I 'no, it's divine and dandy like this spectacle'
I see through.There, an angel from the heavens
Say I 'love you so dearly, dearly Mamma'
Oh I love this Indira, and the musty smell of stored books and cottons, reminds me of time in the attic... thanks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
As you clean the room, you come across a lot of trash. Among the heap of waste to be abandoned, you find things used by your mother which revive a surge of sweet memories in you! A beautiful poem!