Shaman Poem by Ranjit Hoskote
Shaman
I am outside the mystery, the boy thinks,
his eyes frozen on the lilac cloud
that hovers above him, the backcloth apricot sky
soundless. The cloud's wings beat low,
tousling his hair, wetting his eyes,
opening his mouth. After it has melted
in rain, in thunder, this cloud, the boy
will find it again, veined and marbled on his tongue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 12:12:24 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
