The Little princess has come
She spreads the clips from the box
Catches the dirt on the wall as she would catch a fly
She sees the cuckoo newly everyday
She shouts in the crowd of people
Stairs are her world
Whoever she sees are her friends
She doesn't have anything to cry for except when hungry
She is a happiness that brims within herself
Every moment is a continuation of joy
When called by name she will turn around
Her penetrating sight will infiltrate you and will go beyond
Foot Note: Another mischievous poem about the little princess
She spreads the clips from the box
Catches the dirt on the wall as she would catch a fly
She sees the cuckoo newly everyday
She shouts in the crowd of people
Stairs are her world
Whoever she sees are her friends
She doesn't have anything to cry for except when hungry
She is a happiness that brims within herself
Every moment is a continuation of joy
When called by name she will turn around
Her penetrating sight will infiltrate you and will go beyond
Foot Note: Another mischievous poem about the little princess
குட்டி இளவரசி வந்துவிட்டாள்( page 76)
ReplyDelete"தனக்கு தானே பொங்கும் மகிழ்ச்சி" ஒரு குழந்தையை பற்றி இதை விட அழகாய் யாரும் சொல்லிவிட முடியாது. அழகான கவிதை.
Honestly, this cant be my sister.
ReplyDeleteIn opposition to this poem, I invite you into the dark but real truth in the poem of Wallace Stevnens.
For my daughter
Looking into my daughter's eyes I read
Beneath the innocence of morning flesh
Concealed, hintings of death she does not heed
Coldest of winds have blown this hair, and mesh
Of seaweeds snarled these miniatures of hands;
The nights slow poison, tolerant and bland,
Has moved her blood. Parched years I have seen
That may be hers appear: fowl, lingering
Death in certain war, the slim legs green
Or, fed on hate, she relishes the stink
Of others agony; perhaps the cruel
Bride of a syphilitic or a fool.
The speculations sour in the sun.
I have no daughter.
I desire none.
Nundha - To do ஏறி இறங்கும் படிகள்
ReplyDelete