Thursday, February 24, 2011


Winter days,
Studying bare trees of highway
They said-
The wind is deceased.

Pointing out
old nests of birds on those trees
They yelled-
The song is dead.

Inspecting entangled kites
on branches
They laughed out loud-
No more children are alive in town.

Observing nude trees
with no flowers
They concluded-
All youths had grown old.

But, one day
Colorful leaves emerged on trees
The wind performed
its novel dance on foliage
Creating new home,
birds started singing
blissful song of freedom
Ample of balloons and kites
were seen flying on the blue
The highway kept running
as mountain river
All youths rose as tides

By then, they were all dead.

[Trans : Nadeesh]

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