The avalanches in my memory
Appear in flashes;
The events from past to the present
Roll down in slides
As they get mixed up.
I am the photographer
Connecting through out,
Over the time series
Across places and people.
Countless frames
Stacked one above the other:
I can access them randomly
In no time!
I wonder!
What materials these frames consist of?
Where are they stored?
Whether any one possesses their copies
And if they would be preserved
By any one,
Beyond me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem