It shines in the garden,
in the white foliage of the chestnut tree,
in the brim of my father's hat
as he walks on the gravel.
In the garden suspended in time
my mother sits in a redwood chair:
light fills the sky,
the folds of her dress,
the roses tangled beside her.
And when my father bends
to whisper in her ear,
when they rise to leave
and the swallows dart
and the moon and stars
have drifted off together, it shines.
Even as you lean over this page,
late and alone, it shines: even now
in the moment before it disappears.
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घरेलू स्त्री / ममता व्यास
जिन्दगी को ही कविता माना उसने जब जैसी, जिस रूप में मिली खूब जतन से पढ़ा, सुना और गुना... वो नहीं जानती तुम्हारी कविताओं के नियम लेकिन उ...
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चाँदनी की पाँच परतें, हर परत अज्ञात है। एक जल में एक थल में, एक नीलाकाश में। एक आँखों में तुम्हारे झिलमिलाती, एक मेरे बन रहे विश्वास...
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The Moon will shine, Without your smile, But no longer shall it be, A Moon that shines for me, Gone are the days, When you'd just ...
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All about the country, From earliest teens, Dark unmarried mothers, Fair game for lechers — Bosses and station hands, And in town and city...
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