In your exit last year,
You were within reach,
Though out of my sight.
Yet my sorrow was at its peak.
In my exit this year,
You are out of my reach,
With little chance to meet.
But my sorrow is less in height.
Is it the time that healed it
Or the distance that dressed it
Or your inertness that quelled it?
Fuse is there. Switch is off.
13.06.2000, Palakkad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem