Many words you spoke to me
The epithet, ‘a sahithyan’
Still rings in my head.
Many an appearance you granted
The one with my studs on your lobe
Still sticks to my retina.
Time and space might make me unwanted.
Fear of scandal might force you to wind up.
I learnt it from your tone today.
Curtain falls. Episode is over.
The retina will retain it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem