Maya*, do you remember our boisterous childhood?
We were hopping over the marked squares.
At last you hopped over the horizon
leaving me alone in my dormitory.
I stuck in my room with the pile of books.
The gust rattled my tiny windows
and I am scared that my fragile heart will scatter
and blow away like a withered leaf.
I am already frustrated in the rat race
and this raw deal never allow me to jump
over the hurdle.
sweet little poem. there are hackyened parts but are saved by some clever twists.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So many fragile lives blown away without rhyme or reason. A moment of silence is all we have left to give them. And, of course, your poem of love and remembrance which is an enduring gift. Wonderful, Nimal. Warm regards, Sandra