Blue

My dreams are dark blue
So are my wavering eyes
So are the fields of dew that moisten my home
Floating through paddy fields that release birds from time to time
Staining a blue sky with murmurations

When the grey rain arrives
I melt into paint that colours the forest for four months
The sun shoots through the clouds and calls me upwards
Every house is plastered by my dreams

Inside them mothers feed fresh kittens
Poets soothe themselves over bridges wearing blue breezes
Farmers sow the future in twittering valleys
Clothes lines evaporate into cerulean dust
That travels formlessly over a blue river, touching the water now and then

I lend my indigo nights to travellers
Looking for refugee in cold villages warming a roast
I enter their dreams silently and get translated
Into new languages that voyage across the plateau
Speaking of fables that entrance faraway children
Who run happily through fields teasing bluebirds

– translated from Marathi

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