I long to conceal my old scars beneath a sari,
To weep upon your shoulder, feeling safe and near.
Together, I wish to wander through a thousand temples,
Finding yours, and whispering a prayer within its sphere.
To pour water from the sacred Ganges for my tree
So days may fly and evenings swallow the horizon’s glow.
Yet the flute sings of the sweetest mango,
That ripens only when its season comes to blow.
I write to you, making my words buoyant
to "Send" them down the gangplank, into the emerald water,
Splash!
I knew where the shells would land.
Is it a crime to feel giddy from happiness?
What a journey I’m on —
from you to you.
25-26th of August’25.
http://stihi.ru/2025/07/11/6411 The original poem is here
The mango
© Copyright: Амариэль Ка, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125082504750
Свидетельство о публикации №125082504750
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