I have a home in memories
Small but fulsome,
Unknown, but near to my self
Where I was brought up in half clad, dusty clothes
Smelling of mustard
Saw life- free as the wind
Colored as the grass, embracing as the pond
Shady as the trees around
A space- populous as anthills
And mud-houses joined by roofs.
A village- unknown to Google
Somewhere on the fringes of earth
Gave me an identity-I belong to it
Without any card- whatever
And I long for it- as a song of love
To be refrained again.
Time has changed
And so are we, living in islands
Curtained with steel and rocks
Enlivening an age of disbelief
With news, neighbors and neglect
Of bonds -where severance rules the roost
Where we as bonded laborers of time
Crawl our way through empty pastimes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem