Subject to your eyes
I can live my declining years
In placidity of disinclination
I can recline
Newspaper on the knees
On the armchair
With a faraway look
With my thoughts
That sometimes wander
To the years passed
Sometimes to the new generations
To come
Thoughts that contemplate
Divinity that it had once shunned
And sometimes of the mysteries
Of the Universe
I can go for long walks
That have no destination
Enjoying the breeze
And the children and the flowers
By the river
Or by the shore
And have no longing
Other than to return
To the end of the day
Like a calendar
Running out of pages
Or like the autumn
That augurs a winter
By the lonely hearth
I can even write
And temper my writings
With compassion and not passion
And I can browse the skies
Without a mouse
Unlike Ganpati or an IBM
And wear the same
Comfortable clothes every day
Subject to your eyes...
Pratip
7 July 2006
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like the tempered sense of suppressed passion, of the longing that never lets go... Best, Don