It is dusk
The crescent moon
Hiding behind dark clouds
All day long
Is coming out.
The school children, in joyful company
Are returning by the five thirty bus
Crossing the bunds of love.
Above the harvest- approaching –field
Birds in sickle formation are returning home
After a day’s hard work.
In the house by the fields
By the side of the unprotected well
Waits a woman, baby in hand for her husband
The baby’s eyes kiss the moon
His lips the mother’s nipple.
She alone can see the baby moon
Shining in his eyes.
How many little moons may be rising
Today in this village….
Translated by:AJAY SEKHER
the baby is the moon
ReplyDeletewhen the mother becomes the sky.:)