ghoDay laDaee kar rehay hain
vo bikhray huay khaDay hain
ek doosray ka chera
nahin dekh rehay hain.
lagta hai vo saDak pe lagay
jungli kaali aankhoN waalay
peelay phooloN ki tarah hain
ya rasoee main kahDi
naraaz behnoN ki tarah hain.
bakreeaaN ghutnoN oonchay ghaas k khet main
ek doosray k peechay aaDay main
ghoom phir rehi hain.
fir ek ghaas khana shru karti hai
aur sub ajnabi si lagti hain.
lakin ye sub jaanwar kitnay shaandaar
lag rehay hain tumharay janaazay k haftoN baad,
har ek chup chaap hai haalaaN k chaaragha mahaan hai
har ek khush hai, un k moonh ghaas se bhra hai.
- -
The Horses Are Fighting
by Jill Osier
They stand scattered and not
facing each other. Like black-eyed
susans lining the highway, or sisters
angry in some small kitchen.
The goats, they traipse a diagonal
through knee-high meadow,
following head to tail. Then
one decides to feed. Suddenly
they are strangers.
But how elegant animals seem
these weeks after your funeral, each
quiet despite a whole field, content
with any fresh mouthful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good view of grazing goats on meadows green. Thank-you for translating.