The Restaurant Poem by Subhadip Bhattacharya
The Restaurant
Glasses wiped, plated stacked.
The last guest has left early
and it is only ten thirty.
I slowly walk out of the restaurant,
tale a stroll and
end up in a park.
I sit on a bench
beside the tree.
Slowly I fell relaxed as if
all day like strings of a musical instrument
I have played and now I let loose.
Slowly
as if by some
unhindered force
shoots, branches, leaves
come out of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 1:28:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
