There lies ahead of me
The flat road to the past
I can hear the sound of
Conchs in between reading
Of hymns here in my enclosure
Made of card-board and glass
The A4 size news paper
Thrown upon the wet cot
Speaks a lot about the town
I can hear the clanks
Of a dozen wheels measuring
The gravel coated road when
Ash from the incense sticks
Draws my portrait on the floor
I am living in the past like
A memory shared between
Me and time in this hour of
Noon when I am getting chocked
With the damp artificial air
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Our Yesterdays often feel so close. There are so many moments where you wish the calmness of growing up was still here today. Thank you for taking us back.
You are right. This is what I have tried to express in this poem. Many many thanks.