Myths of yester-years, epics of tomorrow;
With the day intervening,
The bridge that sings
Of past - days, places and people:
Today. Big names, places; events interesting,
Go in the making of tales of joy,
Stories of sorrow
Or joys and sorrows intertwined
As strands, or mixed as the salts
In that unlabeled packet small
Of newspaper: old and pale,
To be tested for identification.
So here's the story of a hero unheroic.
No Ulysses or Achilles, this our hero is.
His story features no gods or Mephistopheles.
Not so long ago, in the holy city of Kashi,
There lived a certain dog-monkey
In a lane quite traveled:
Narrow, slippery, dark and filthy,
That opened on to the Ganges,
One of many, like lane any.
At all times and every season
It was open to the general population
Of pilgrims floating, and cows,
Of dogs stray, and the bull,
And of course, a certain dog-monkey.
You must have heard of dogs, of monkeys
But myths set standards of gullibility:
The willing suspension of all suspicion
Is rewarded with the compensation
Of twists and turns of the plot,
Unimaginable. Of stories that seep in
And sub-plots innumerable.
So, this, our dog-monkey
Is just the right character
For his own story, of his days and nights.
Of his death and life.
I LOVE YOUR POEMS AND ME DEVIN THINKS YOUR POEMS ARE THE BEST
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks a lot Devin. I appreciate it.