It is drizzling and the train lazily chugs its way
Through the forest:
A stream gurgles beneath the cast-iron bridge
The trees are aglow with joy
As rain drops play on their eyelids.
People in the air-conditioned compartments
Are still asleep.
Some that are awake await their tea
Served in bright yellow flasks and plastic mugs.
An old lady tosses a coin into the water
With a silent prayer.
Someone crushes a plastic mug and
Throws it down the stream.
A dark tunnel approaches and
The lone child that’s awake
Peers through the misty glass in awe.
A hot debate builds up over tea
On IT and Biotechnology.
Will the bubble burst or won’t it?
Someone reads out in hushed tones
The news of the riots.
It is drizzling and the train lazily chugs its way
Through the wistful passage:
Water flows beneath the iron bridge
Like it has flown since timeless age.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem