Sunday, November 28, 2010

If I see the sun again.

I have no poem today.
Tomorrow's sun may rise with a couplet;
It might say that you are there
eager to hear my song,
and I am here
eager to chew your words.
Or it might be a quadruplet,
a Rubaiyyath from a mind
filled with an ocean of sorrow
and a mountain of suffering.
I have a fragrance in me;
it is the experience of reading
your words of consolation;
a boy ran to me yesterday
and said to me:
grandpa, from the janasa
the dead body has raised a revolt;
it wants a few couplets of love
and a mobile phone
to speak to its spouse from the grave.
I had to smile at him;
son , I called him,
it's love; love is what he wants.
So, my dear,
I have no poem today with me.
Perhaps tomorrow,
if I see the sun again.

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