Curtains are these, of shadows
and memories. Fervent play
of eyes as those pearls move
hide and seek and their essay of essence
prevails over all secrets...
curtains are these
There are some distances
which oil lamps will shy to show
paper boats will fail to sail
a courage of emotion
have knocked and raised
waves after waves
and oceans reside in me now
but waves, they have disappeared
in the rains
Failure has many a history.
My story has failed many a times
Hours unaccounted,
have escaped following hours
surpassed eclipses.
Often freedom has turned into a larger cage
momentary poem of sunset
keeps whispering
Beloved, my prayers would have reached you
had you not been a lover of day light
and I of the dark raiment of the night.
I have sat within myself side by side
and tried to convince myself.
The destroyed punctuations
will get repaired, and sentences will be right.
your voice turns into a song
an evening lyrics of meeting of daylight
and of darkness..
you wont surrender,
I cannot win.
curtains are these
If you don't open them, the breeze will....
courtesy 'Flower Rae'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
looks to me more like a riddle or a labyrinth -this poem, as the lines grow one feels like knowing about something this poem talks about --there's a game played by sounds, words and images --what it is all about? that is something One wants to know, might be! Is it about human situation? Social issues, or a psychological enigma? there is something very much present with a concrete existence though not tangible---a drama staged upon the landscape stage set for a pageant --the last line is adding strength to an already strong scribe --a courtesy so substantial--the poem does not render its full even half of the meanings to the reader but one thing is sure --something is there--!