Bird - The Blue Sky- Sunlight - Children Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

Not that what I write will always make sense,
but I do not write for sense—
I write for love and a little discipline.

Why can my mind not think what I see?
Bird, the blue sky, sunlight, children—
their innocence, their indifference to me,
to my being,
how nonchalantly they conduct themselves.

Am I the only one who worries?
Or is this what happens
to all men and women?

If only I had not seen them—
Oedipus the King comes to haunt me.
His last days—
why, why did I see
what was not to be seen?

And I—
every day I hear
what was not to be heard.

I doubt.
I feel—yes, feel.
Thus I speak.

Do you feel, and then speak?
Or do you speak without feeling?

Many such questions make my world—
Bird, the blue sky, sunlight, children:
my poems.