Pranab k c
14/08/2014
a girl sit beside a station
passengers with hurry heal
pass her across at daily motion
the girl not beg
sell not her vanity or ventilation
sit silently to catch a face
long ago she missed her beloved
days gone smooth with heavy heart
daggers drinks and destination
moreover imprinted with every uniform
but a stop never she attempted to attain
only but her un-designed manipulation
station gives her shadow
footpath gives her shelter
and a shabby sun everyday with anger
burns her skin
only the moon
alone knows the beauty of lunacy
the girl talk many times
when dead at night she got tired
observing houses still can't flow away
with such enamel wave of light, moon melts...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem