yawns
aching hearts
incessant
droll of chaiwallahs
puddles in paddy fields
echo the sky
shadows on still-water.
etch and wash
on nature’s canvas
I live a surreal dream
In the moving train.
our silence
discomfort
buried deep
in the books we read
'dangling conversation'…
landscapes pass
unscanned from
the window sill
mangled men
line up for a coin or two
eunuchs cat walked in pairs
as men scrambled
to their dens
and train closets.
you kept your
eyes away from me
I tried to read
with mine
glued on you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem