Dearest Mommy, I dreamt of you last night.
I see a woman lying,
Where is not clear:
I am standing near,
As if in Tata Cancer Hospital;
My look goes to the face, and it
Strikes me like Mommy’s.
Soon features settle as Mommy’s -
But your left cheek down to jaw
Is abnormal, as if pomegranate seeds
Are stuck in a big patch, and similar cluster
Wine-red in color, on left hip and knee too.
Since you died 27 years ago,
Of lympho-sarcoma, besieging you
For seven years, as foretold,
You never appeared in my dream.
Why now?
What do I have in my mind
To shape the dream this way
Around you? ‘Obnoxious little weed’,
In some crevice, down under, perhaps?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem