Balcony and sky
Small is my place;
For myself with thousands of heroes and villains
Single room is restroom, and bedroom and kitchen
Home to books in numbers and the rest;
Now have guests, my sister and husband.
I, therefore, like childhood, sleeping on the roof
Sleep in balcony.
Some clouds and planes on and off, like brush and canvas
Are busy in painting the sky
Limited are colours of clouds, some blue in wide shades
And my eyes are open to observe.
With them march past to now and dreams, tomorrows
If alive
If things done
Books published
Driving, etcetera
Grand are the wild thoughts, though small is place.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem