Name of the poem- Nostalgia

blue-drop-drops-greece-nostalgia-favim-com-458084

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Take my wealth and fame,

                                               You may even take my youth.
                                                But please return the monsoon of my childhood.
                                                That paper made boat and the rain in which
                                                 I used to play.
                                                                    The oldest relic of the neighborhood.
                                                                    That old lady that children used to
                                                                     call grandmother,those fairies that
                                                                      dwelt in the stories of grandmother.
                                                                       the experience of centuries visible
                                                                       by the wrinkle on the face.
                                               Even if one tries,one can not forget
                                               those seemingly short nights and
                                               long stories of grandmother,one can not forget
                                              Sneaking out from the house in the mid-afternoon.
                                                                    The melody of sparrows chirping and those
                                                                     naive efforts to capture the illusive butterfly.
                                                                     Having disagreements with friends while
                                                                      celebrating the wedding of dolls.who can
                                                                      ever forget that falling from the swing and
                                                                       and stand up again.
                                              Those endearing gifts of brass rings,
                                                those broken glass bangles remind
                                                me of those days,occasionally going
                                                to the hill of sand,making sand castles
                                                 and then destroying them.
                                                              That picture of my innocent imagination,
                                                               those dreams and toys were our sole wealth.
                                                               Neither were we effected by world’s sorrows
                                                               nor bound by relationships.
                                                               That life was beautiful.
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9 thoughts on “Name of the poem- Nostalgia

  1. With due respect to this admirable translation we the readers expecting more unique and more beautifull poems from our beautifull poetess…!!! 🙂 keeping in mind that a good translation isnt a very easy task atall… Your ” a visit to great smoky mountain national park” makes our expectation higher 🙂

    Like

  2. With due respect to this admirable translation we the readers expecting more unique and more beautifull poems from our beautifull poetess…!!! 🙂 keeping in mind that a good translation isnt a easy task atall… Your ” a visit to great smoky mountain national park” makes our expectation higher 🙂

    Like

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