Shyamala Rao

Dear Shyamala Rao,
you come every evening,
grab my hand and
pull me out of this dark mire
brooding in my room,
and take me into street
for a jolly rove.

You snap a piece of language
from curved skies of evening,
you stitch the broken paths
with your everlasting smiles,
glorious archways resurrect
from our footsteps,
as we rove endlessly in those street.

The houses step aside
and roads spread before us;
as your thoughts grow honest
and your clattering laugh
blows like a violent wind,
the world paints itself bright
and a moon sprouts to life.

Only then,
shall we return home;
is it not true
dear Shyamala Rao?

Telugu: Ismail 

Tr: Ro Hith