The dream I fathered has disowned me now
And vanished out of bounds of Memory Town.
I called the Secret Squad and told them how
That dream had stayed awhile with me and flown
Into a hidden pocket of the sky.
They asked me for a picture, I had none.
They asked me to describe him; how could I
Who fathered him in blindness like the sun?
At dusk they brought a rag to me and said,
'We found this by the draw-bridge'. 'It is his',
I cried, 'He wore this shirt. Oh, is he dead? '
'You killed him', screamed the Chief of the Police.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very humorous write! Also thought provoking! Yes, we slay our dreams and lament later that all our dreams have fled! Dreams shouldn't be discarded, instead they should be carefully protected to bloom and seed! Really enjoyed! A10
Dear Poet Valsa, You are so considerate when you comment on an old verse of mine, and comment with such a delectable reaction. I sincerely feel grateful. It is a stimulus to one who wants to write something different, something that a rare reader like you can imagine or conjecture, although in different words.. . I hope I can react with that sensitivity to your poems, old or recent. Best wishes. Madhavan