One day
The ink discovered me,
And I landed into pairs of soft hands
In every house on this earth.
I became the kite,
To speak with clouds, moon and stars.
The nib of the pen kissed the hand;
A melody of the santoor in every breath;
The brush strokes
Played boli with my body;
And a rainbow within the colours
Stretched lazily and came to life.
The tiny fingers of the child
Wrote on the body colourful dreams:
The sun, butterfly and red rose.
Tr. Baidar Bakht
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