she took a
handkerchief and
tied it round her neck
her niece said the prayers
saying it was caused by
mere feelings
feelings end
everything sometimes
and it is no wonder
it is acceptable nowadays
the sad fact is no one
wants to mention it
and so
it simply forgets itself
like water boiling and
evaporating and
what is left is
the cold tin of
a can
in our chat
you blame me for taking about
endings
that i should have
mentioned more about
sunlit beginnings
grazing fields and
limitless horizons of green
and blue
and flaming sunsets
that make our
mouths gape
for
beauty
i tell you i am
not a story teller
i am a poet
and endings
are not open
most of the times
sometimes they are
insults that one must bear
even in one's
self dug graves
there is always a responsibility
that must be gripped by our hands
and if these hands open
and surrender respect
to some
insignificant handkerchiefs
so be it
sadness is not a reason
and it is not always
beautiful
so be it
let those who cannot bear
bury themselves
we have our own preoccupations
our graves to dig too
our our litany of justifications
after
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem