Once more it rings, the doorbell
A man cannot have peace at home
When the good old postman brought
The treasures from distance with delay
When he pestered us for Diwali or New year
It was limited to him, and had its positive side
But this nameless multitude
Which brings most unimportant things
Contiuously seeking your signature
And your phone number with distrust
Is the worse alternative:
Whoever wants instant post?
I could do very well with the long interval
Between despatch and delivery: peace was in it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem