dekho, khilonoN ki dukan ki khiDki main
ek sundar ball rakha hua hai
chaand aur sooraj se bhi zyada gol-mol hai.
laal hai? neela hai? baiNgani hai?
sub kuch hai vo jo hamaari icHHa main hai,
lakin ye majood nahin.
majood nahin aur sundar? bilkul.
-to be translated
See it, the beautiful ball
Poised in the toyshop window,
Rounder than sun or moon.
Is it red? is it blue? is it violet?
It is everything we desire,
And it does not exist at all.
Non-existent and beautiful? Quite.
In the rounding leap of our hands,
In the longing hush of air,
We know what that ball could be,
How its blues and reds could spin
To a headier violet.
Beautiful in the mind,
Like a word we are waiting to hear,
That ball is construed, but lives
Only in flash of flight,
From the instant of release
To the catch in another's hand.
And the toy withheld is a token
Of all who refrain from play-
The shopkeepers, the collectors
Like Queen Victoria,
in whose adorable doll's house
Nothing was ever broken.
- Adrienne Rich
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem