1)

While halting

at the edge of the dream

I heard the sound

of your batting wings.

It was the time

that we had tea

usually.

I began to hum

the song you sent

in your lieu.

You had descended

on the rim of the teacup

as a scampering ant.

ABSURD_GAME

I moved ahead

slowly only.

Very slowly.

The tiredness and surprise

everytime

to start from the beginning

again and again

wraps me blanketlike,

a magical dream

of a journey's route.

I have looked on

with a child's surprise

at handspans and cubits

sliding in play

to change places.

The usual math of

subtracting the surprise

and multiplying grief

is boring.

Phew.

They are always

in the preparatory stage.

Women's colours

must wait without

the brush drying up.

That, is an endless,

painful task.

As the game continues

keenly with a dream

and a heavy mountain

right next it,

the link to a life

suddenly snaps

and hangs.

When everyone lauded

the unfinished painting

fitted on to the frame

as modern trend of art,

you may have heard

the whispers

seep through

the gaps in the frame.

BECOME_RAIN_AND_FLY

The mind scooping up the words of rain, listen keenly and enjoy,

become rain and fly away to wander,

I made into poem.

You had said that

only sounds have pervaded

everywhere.

No.

Though it is not easy

for everybody

to acquire excesses,

when switching bodies

and pouring as a rain of affection,

you realise

it is not a surprise that

its words and innate feelings

are conquered.

Translated by Sri Vatsa