The setting is old British country side in the eighteenth century!
Under the cauliflower’s leafy hue
Silent munching hawker’s shrew
She so tiny, an illusion to the eye.
Iota of a being in a vegetable pie.
Twitching its Whiskers on a cue.
Wary of the basket going askew.
Sipping drops from the drying dew.
Grumpy chat of a roadside crew
Squawking shriek of a cobbler’s parrot
Leap to left under the rootsy carrot
Noses the celery, by the brinjal hops.
Tail it whisks an a cucumber chops.
Clutch an gnash some water cress.
Mouths an whiskers all in a mess.
Scurrying to the turnip for a chew,
land that shall in bubbling stew.
Gazes the bustle in a crowded street.
Old hag complaining of dearer wheat
Slowly the hawker pushes the cart.
Through the city’s narrower parts.
Smith’s ol man; thinks he’s a bart.
Hawker as always wants no part.
Swallow dips from the church’s spire.
Just for a twerp and random inquire.
Turning and turning into so many bends
A bridge to cross an our journey ends
(Islamabad)
(April 28,2009)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is an interesting and realistic description of a street activity. ' Iota of a being' the shrew as a central character adds life to the description. It's pleasing and light=hearted.