quinta-feira, 15 de setembro de 2011

At the bank of the river

And quiet flows the river
without a ripple or shiver
trees stand windless
not even a whiff in space
no leaf shakes, no sound;
fishes are sleeping
sweating fishermen around
have lost all zeal
in the act of rowing;
their boats stand still.
Stilled water looks like a mirror
naked boy in it looks at his figure.
The world without a name
halts at the bank of the river
no one knows when it came
none knows if it was there.

Aju Mukhopadhyay

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