The Vision Of The Seasons - Poem by Ayyappa Paniker
The winter is humming something:
Is it for nothing?
Does she say that spring will never
Do the summer hills put on a bark
With withered grass?
Do they dream that when the rains come,
They bring sheer joy?
Is the autumn or the glow of transition:
A memory slip?
Will everything at the end turn into
The corpse of a late winter?
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