Bleached,
The night looked
A huge ghost
Walking backwards
The wind blowing
From the ancient banyan
On the village outskirts
Hooted like a giant owl
The sea looked muddy
And the rivers felt dry
Thoughts were scattered
By the banyan wind
Like sand granules at storm
In the corridors
Well lighted, peopled,
Perfumed n jewelled
Is heard a shriek of emptiness that
I tried to muffle in vain!
Emptiness of self is a surreal image as described. The shriek's echoes seem unending.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lot is left to imaginary and feel, very hard to find in most poems these days, a really nice poem.