ROOFTOP
sitting alone on our rooftop we feel as if we are sitting huddled in
some crowded basement
sitting like that the world’s voice sounds like continuous firing as if
with eyes and ears shut we are letting some brown airplane pass
overhead
a voice that could be a rooftop and sitting on the rooftop of the
house under it listening to the world that sounds like being fired
upon we were slowly losing the basement from under us which we
saw being created sitting alone on the rooftop
have you ever counted how many airplanes pass over you in one
day?
Kiyoko Nagase
© 2001, Giriraj Kiradoo © Translation: 2009, Rahul Soni
please send an email to poemoftheweek-leave@poetryinternational.org
No comments:
Post a Comment