Poems

The Washerman

Silently watching morning's brilliant
light tear the dense clouds
I forgot the sky and
the aching hand,
Looking at the wrinkles of the
tearful reflection in the water
I forgot my age
Seeing the bloody shadows
in the swaying greenery
I forgot the corpses' present
and started thinking something else
Dissolving the clouds' basket in the blue sky
I am washing myself

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Comments (1)

PREMNARAYAN NATH

Excellent translation indeed! The fidelity to the original is kept at optimum level, which is encouraging to the original poet and praiseworthy to the translator.

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