SAME NAME AS MINE
NALIN RAWAL
(Translated from Gujarati by P. MACHWE)
on myself
I filling in old eyes a tonful of sound sleep effect
(in which I was putting in my eyes fire-colorium)
of velvet-soft darkness feel
my black hair
are rough
and like the dry hay
scattering here and there, flying.
Thick and ugly, lifeless like some roap
my nerves are all getting tense.
(in which rapidly-flowing my warm-blood
had the heat of hundred suns)
“See you later,” told Nalin and went away...
on this road which is almost to break with din
“See you sure” muttering I fool
left twenty years behind, in my mistake,
by mistake I went ahead...