Why do I dream in words
In which our farmers
In their duty mood
Didn’t name their fruits
And curse the sucking bucks?
Why I dream in words
In which my mom didn’t ask
Me to suck her milk
And lull me to sleep?
Why I dream in words
In which even Kannaki
Didn’t cry in deep agony
And took her oath?
The words I lived
And played and dreamt,
The words instilled in my blood
By my dark fore fathers
But still sleep in me dormant.
Then why I dream in words
Which later intruded into
My unguarded mind
Like a high-tech city girl?
I know, after all, they’re words
Which have life;
Black or white or brown
They are words of men,
Living and moving.
I dream and I’ll dream
From words East and West…
words are at your disposal...your own to dream...good indeed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dream more and more.... so that we get the flash of those dreams in the form of poems.. regards sandhya