MONOSTICH
-
Guna Moran (India)
Sap of Poetry
The stem stores the sap – petals are mere ornaments.
Address
Raising its hand the bookworm said, “Poetry
is blood corpuscles.”
Irony
In mud the lotus sways, the mud never sees
the lotus face.
Two Stars
Nodding their head, they beckon with a smile.
Burning
The moon burns looking at the sun, the stars
burn looking at the moon.
Four Eyes
Four eyes she’s got – two lookers-on and two
dancing girls.
(Translated by Nirendra Nath Thakuria)
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