Unbounded was his mind, that led him astray,
A traveler, a hitch-hiker had he become.
Had been a subject of wasteful youth,
Wishful thinking was what he used to nurture.
Well, what was he before?
A small-time mill worker;
With a run-of-the-mill livelihood.
Was regarded as diligent in his neighborhood.
Until one day, his chums took him,
To a garden of weeds.
It was all too easy for him to learn the art,
And soon he took to drawing in;
Quit his trade, and dwelled in a smoky chamber.
Maddened and muddled – he felt his life upside down,
Left his home, stealing all the money he could;
And proceeded towards a bootless voyage,
To face the unknown, oblivious of the risks he’d run.
He chose to become rootless,
Never anticipating the vagaries that would root.
--
ABHIJIT ROY
Place: Guwahati, Assam, India
Date: 13-march-2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem