some words against the gun
keeping full trust on the fulia-handloomsome words may be uttered now
some words against the gun
an winter ...
some fallen leaves ...
some cold wind ...
and a big vacuum in mind ...
with all those adornments i'm sitting now
on the terrace of a shiva-temple
in front of me
in a pond covered with hyacinth
the water-play of the ducks
in its water
the shadow of the sky
the shadow of the trees
along the side of the pond
a little child is running alone
with a toy-ball in hand
i don't wish to know now
whether there is any compares
to that run
i'm only sitting
and staring at
it may not be known to others
but i myself know well
that by speaking those words
I try to hide my sadness... my loneliness...
Oh... instead of gun-powder ...
if i could put inside the quartos
any translation of this joy of the child ...
those who rule rely on guns
those who want to break the rule
also rely on guns
today when my pen wants
to tell something against the gun
i don't know whether it will go
in favour or against
the sky... the birds... the trees... the mankind ...
Poetry by murari sinha
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Written on 2010-05-05 at 03:19
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