'Life' flits by
In her many walking forms,
Leaving me high and dry
My brain full of worms.
Sometimes she's in pumps or boots
Sometimes in flip-flops, sandals or sneakers
At any rate, she needs no high heels
Her towering elegance reaches the skies.
Eight o clock, summer morning
And 'Life' is ready for work
Businesslike, full of purpose
Away she zooms
A sleek, gleaming warplane
In full flight
On her daily reconnaissance,
Sometimes, bombing missions
Leaving me wondering
Which one's shining brighter- -
The radiant sun overhead
Or the elegant war-machine gliding by?
Weekdays: late evenings
And Life's on her way back home
From the battlefield
Causing havoc and massacre
In enemy territory
While bolstering up her friends
With her power and poise.
Sometimes she traipses, sometimes trudges
But never stumbles
Even on potholed roads
Her fatigued body rolls on
Like a lazy meandering river
Glittering in silver moonlight
Or, sometimes, she's on her hired rickshaw
Bringing back visions of my Epiphany- -
My Love Guru in sunshine yellow
On her majestic, silver-white pony;
My thirsty eyes, nevertheless,
Longing to catch a glimpse
Of her graceful strides,
And turning misty as an ice-cold gust
Of shivering North Wind
Clatters my lonesome bones.
At other times, she zips through
Even when her day's mission's accomplished
Driven by domestic duty, perhaps,
Or to snatch an extra hour
Of leisure or pleasure, maybe
with... God knows who
As groggy-eyed I watch,
Amazed at her energy and vitality.
Sunday evenings
And 'Life' is on her queenly strolls
Bright colors - - red, yellow, orange, pink
Replacing the battle fatigues
Of bottle-green, black and dark grey.
She saunters past,
Silent, pensive, brooding
Except for the occasional chat
On her cellphone
The dark road lit up momentarily
By her luminous strides,
A moving lighthouse on ground
Sashaying down the dusty path;
The maddening scent of her perfume
Becomes the elixir of life for some
For me, it's the kiss of weekly deaths
Sleepless nights and mind-numbing days
Living forever in hope, despair, desire and pain
In search of the right words,
The meter, the rhyme and the rhythm
The apt metaphor, simile or imagery
To capture her mercurial brilliance
In her many splendoured guises- -
The mesmerizing walks of 'Life'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem