Neck tilted to the left
Eyes closed, arms straight on sides
With the black rope tied to a long branch
Of the banyan tree, he moves a little to and fro
When the gentle autumn breeze blows
The park service guide guides the people
Heaps of leaves under feet crumple
And rustle as they approach him
No swallows in the air
No rose-breasted grosbeaks
No myna, no koel, no canary
The world, detached, at stand still
They stand in silence, almost
Stare at him
The guard asks-
Does any one know him?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem