I try to glance beyond the train’s window,
But it’s my own face that I see on the glass.
The search blooming in these eyes confuses me,
When face-to-face with the search blooming in those:
Should I just stop searching for meanings in feelings?
I’m anyway struggling with the burden of sleep.
To see myself eye-to-eye also requires
That I bear the burden of my own eyelids.
A flood of some tears has started flowing.
The light of dreams that it douses needs to be lit again.
The poem that didn’t giggle in the laughs of joy,
Perhaps, will come out in the silent breaths of sorrow.
While at it, perhaps, this fever to write will also cool.
Translated from my Hindi poem, ट्रैन की खिड़की
Train ki KHiDki
Train kī KHiDkī se bāhar JHānktā hūn
to shīshe pe KHud hī kā chehrā diKH jāta hei.
ānKHon mein jo talāsh panap rahi hei
wahi talāsh ko rūbarū pā kār samaJH nahi ā rahā
ki ab ehsāson ke māyene DHūnDHnā CHoD dūn kyā?
nīnd kā bojh mushkil se sambhāl rahā hūn.
KHudse nazar milāne ke liye bhī to
palkon kā bhār uTHānā padtā hei.
kuCH askon kā sailāb behne lagā hei.
us se bujhī sapnon kī roshnī ko phir se jalānā padegā.
jo nazm khushī ke hasiyon mein nahi KHilKHilāye
shāyad Gam ke KHāmosh sānson mein nikal jāyengi wo.
Isi bahāne shāyad thodā likhne kā buKHār utar jāyegā.
Minakhi Misra 