What does a season really mean?
Changing of a summer into a winter
or a winter into a spring?
Or when the hot wind blows
into our torrid veins,
and those empty rooms
with large windows
whisper into the ears
of our solitude,
a season changes then?
Or one evening,
when the sky becomes paralyzed,
all of a sudden,
and the storms occur
one after another,
some where deep into our hearts,
a season changes then?
Or when the moonlight frosts
on our silent lips,
on a cold winter night,
and our heart sinks
as the morning star sinks on the horizon,
a season changes then?
Every time when a season changes,
I look for a rainbow on a cloudy day,
and a shade, in the arms of
the blazing Sun.
~Kalpna Singh-Chitnis, Copyright © 2009 – All rights reserved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem