I used to be the black cloud,
now I'm turning grey.
Hands age, veins emerge,
wrinkles gradually set in
around the mouth and brows.
The back begins to ache,
the voice gets hoarse,
a charming quality to some,
the roughness of the age to others.
Today, as I strolled down Yonge,
I was suddenly pushed
by a careless teen
who rushed by me.
While regaining my footing,
I saw an elderly man
trying in vain to retrieve
his rolling oranges.
As he crawled after them,
I realized he is helplessly old
and I am helplessly young.
September 2009 issue of Word Catalyst
Butterfly Dream: Curve Haiku by Angelee Deodhar
-
*English Original*
gibbous moon
my ear on the curve
of her belly
*Galaxy of Dust*, 2015
Angelee Deodhar
*Chinese Translation (Traditional)*
凸形月
我的耳朵貼在...