Page 91 - April 2021
P. 91


                Translation: Veena

                   Devi Meenakshi


                 With their star spangled eyes,
                 They incarcerate your smiles.

            Never, ever offer your heart to them.
             Alas! That is a spell of black magic.

                Then flocks of wild wool sheep
             Grazing the green pastures of your

           Would stoop and enter the enchanted
                             fold timidly.

           It's wall is adorned with the portrait of
                     a kid with auburn hair:

               With sunlit strands glowing red.
             He is waiting alone in the meadow ,

                  Yearning for a new football.

          litterateur april                                       91
   86   87   88   89   90   91   92   93   94   95   96