you chide me for taking things
in passing and looking at them as though
they are tiny
ants on a hill
grasshoppers playing on the grass
moths circling around the light
fleas on the rug
i could have told you
that many days back in my youth
i was worshiping the sun
had time with flowers and took more
moments with the rivers
those were the huge things in my life
where i placed more significance
but then they were so hurting at times
and then i shun
what we think are important
i like the dips and i stay on the surface
of things
no longer wanting to swim but you may see me
(not miraculously)
walk on top of the water
gliding on the shimmer of its skin
and then without the use of so many words
i leave and then go away and what you always see
(though this may not be true after all)
is always the happiness subsumed in my
suppressed smile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem