Tuesday, August 23, 2011

A Morning in Darjeeling


Spreading a net of fog,
An unabashed girl
Stands in the ditch-pound.
The leaf of glowing sun
Will soon drop
From the forehead of the trees.
The sparrow of sunlight
Hiding in the fragrant teagardens
Will soon fly away,
Startled by dark footsteps.
Who stole the butterfly of sunlight
From your cheeks?



Tr. Baidar Bakht
at

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