Mohan Rana

(1964 / Dehli / India)

The Washerman - Poem by Mohan Rana

Silently watching the morning's brilliant
light tear the dense clouds
I forgot the sky and
the aching hand
Watching the brimming reflection
wrinkle the water
I forgot my own age
Watching the bloodied
shadows in the swaying greenery
I forgot the nowness of the dead
and turned to something else
Stirring the basket of clouds
into the blue sky
I wash myself

[The literal translation of this poem was made by Lucy Rosenstein
The final translated version of the poem is by The Poetry Translation Workshop]

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Poem Submitted: Friday, July 6, 2012

Poem Edited: Friday, July 6, 2012

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