Poem
Kamal Vora
No. 7 An old man sits counting leaves
No. 7An old man sits
counting leaves
as they fall
from a tree.
One... two... three...
When several fall
all at once,
his counting wobbles.
When a single leaf
takes flight in the wind,
his counting lurches.
When the leaves stop falling,
he stares fixedly
at the fallen leaves.
When he tires of counting,
he bends
and gathers
one leaf
after another,
collecting them in a basket.
His counting has already
vanished in the breeze.
© Translation: 2020, Naushil Mehta and Arundhathi Subramaniam
No. 7 An old man sits counting leaves
૭
એક વૃદ્ધ
ઝાડ પરથી ખરતાં પાંદડાં
ગણી રહ્યો છે
એક... બે... ત્રણ...
ચાર-પાંચ પાંદડાં સામટાં ખરી પડે ત્યારે
એની ગણતરી
લથડિયાં ખાય છે
એકાદ પાંદડું
ખરતાવેંત પવનસુસવાટામાં ઊડી જાય તો
એ મૂંઝાઈ જાય છે
પાંદડાં ખરતાં થંભી જાય તે દરમિયાન
ખરી ગયેલાં પાંદડાંને
એકીટશે જોયા કરે છે
ગણતાં ગણતાં થાકે તે પછી
વાંકો વળી
એકેક પાંદડું વીણી લઈ
ટોપલીમાં નાખતો વૃદ્ધ
ગણતરીના તાળામાં
ગોથે ચડે છે
© 2015, Kamal Vora
From: Vruddhashatak
Publisher: Kshitij Samshodhan Prakashan Kendra, Mumbai
From: Vruddhashatak
Publisher: Kshitij Samshodhan Prakashan Kendra, Mumbai
Poems
Poems of Kamal Vora
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No. 7 An old man sits counting leaves
No. 7An old man sits
counting leaves
as they fall
from a tree.
One... two... three...
When several fall
all at once,
his counting wobbles.
When a single leaf
takes flight in the wind,
his counting lurches.
When the leaves stop falling,
he stares fixedly
at the fallen leaves.
When he tires of counting,
he bends
and gathers
one leaf
after another,
collecting them in a basket.
His counting has already
vanished in the breeze.
© 2020, Naushil Mehta and Arundhathi Subramaniam
From: Vruddhashatak
From: Vruddhashatak
No. 7 An old man sits counting leaves
No. 7An old man sits
counting leaves
as they fall
from a tree.
One... two... three...
When several fall
all at once,
his counting wobbles.
When a single leaf
takes flight in the wind,
his counting lurches.
When the leaves stop falling,
he stares fixedly
at the fallen leaves.
When he tires of counting,
he bends
and gathers
one leaf
after another,
collecting them in a basket.
His counting has already
vanished in the breeze.
© 2020, Naushil Mehta and Arundhathi Subramaniam
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