Everything has taken an insipid brown color
From the pervasive moss on the rock
To the niggling, gnawing thought
From the butterfly flitting flower to flower-
being denied nectar, mistaken for a moth
To every leaf on trees, nearly scorched
The Sun doesn't spare -
Not a thing, not a soul
Crackling emotions, set aflame
The boy on the road, fully dust wrapped
Hungry tigers in the forest-no game
In the neighbourhood, a dog has died
The light wraps him in its scathing flame
Hidden resentments come pouring out
Turned putrid, their odor rise
Death can be sensed in the courtyard
Does it come and sleep in our cots?
The child on the third floor wails and wails
Then, complete silence.Shadow looms
My solitude lengthens- stretches and yawns
So many times, tried to brush it with a broom
The night comes charging in like a train
Darkness devours me from inside
The book falls from my lap
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem