Took away from me this opulence, fame
And even this young stage as well
But bring me back those childhood memories, the “paper boat”
And the monsoon rain as a “bell”
The old memories of my vicinity
The old woman known as grand-mother
In her talks, a group of fairies
In her expressions, the worldly dairies
If one tries to forget; can’t forget
The short night and the long story set
On a hot day, leaving the homes aside
Catching sparrows, nightingales and butterflies
Those gifts of brass-angles
Those scars of broken bangles
An innocent wish of our own idea
Everything in the notions - our own area
Neither worldly concern nor relations and strife
The beautiful was childhood life!
The poem is a translation of one of the poems of Sudarshan Faakir
This post first appeared on The Kashmir Pulse
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