The leaking boat trapped in the marshes
is repaired and rescued to the ghaat in the bank
where the boat man is ready with his oar
with an overdue promise to ferry me across ripples
to that estuary with a silent sea shore
where the tides hug a sparkling stream
and where harsh reality merges with dream;
I will deposit the runoff of my ego
in the silt of the river, by the sea to be taken in,
silently flow into the confluence
where fresh water is sipped by the salty tongue
of a greedy sea thumping in
and be a particle in the flow of waters joining
in rhythm of winds, wings and glistening fin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your poem has imagination in every line.++10