Doors Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey
Doors
Doors,
Doors of dreams,
How to fold, unfold
The planks
Whatever wood they are made of
Or are from,
I do not want to discuss it
Who the carpenters,
Whose the house,
Who the renters,
Which but how to say it?
Doors,
Doors of dreams,
Leading to where,
But to peep is to
Into its history,
The history of the house
Who built it
When
And how were those who
Dwelt it inside
Down the terraces, corridors of ages gone by?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/19/2024 5:29:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
