O this small black bird
her deep voice like old soprano's?
She tells about the Spring flowers
while flying from a tree top
in a Winter garden.
I was familiar with this song
in my handsome youth
but now almost forgotten the lyrics.
This nutty head won't store anything?
Who knows in the future
I could have forgotten my name too?
Beloved darns my old shirt's collar
and she grumbles; 'Dad! Time has come to throw away all these stuffs
and I bought you a new shirt.'
Then I said; 'How could I throw you away my old blanket? '
She smiled like The French Lieutenant's Woman
in John Fowles's novel!
and I take this opportunity to wish a happy birthday to MAGNOLIA & PREMJI our poet friends!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem