Is my life a dead almond leaf
blowing in the winds of your breath?
Is this song of mine, a raindrop
falling in the pond of your love?
Am I the little bird
on which the first light of your glance touched,
for which I surrendered my senses
to wake in a new life?
Those melodies of strange silence
in empty streets of November,
The ripples of the still sea
on my emotionless face,
The untimely monsoon and violent winds
the singing cuckoo and raising sun,
falling meteors and storming sky,
is it all because of the debt
I owe for your glance ages ago?
I roamed
In villages of love
on those narrow lanes...passing between mud houses,
In deserts of humanity
for an oasis to quench the thirst of hope,
In jungles of time
running with flow of river and streams of light
I roamed
to explore and excavate the relics of a lost glance
*21.8.2012
కామెంట్లు లేవు:
కామెంట్ను పోస్ట్ చేయండి