I used to wake up
At the mell of rain-soaked earth
Through our cracked roof
rainwater sprinkled down
making us take refuge
to a corner of the damp floor
huddling closely to our mother's lap
Sometimes it rained torrentially
and icy winds hugged our rib cages
Then my mother would start telling us
stories of our bygone golden days
Mesmerised, we would look
at her radiant face
And, we knew not when
imperceptibly
those stories would turn
into our warn wrappers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Simply lovely, carried back in an instant to chilhood memory, wonderful, thankyou