Yes, I remember
that childhood’s December.
When in shivering setting evenings,
sunshine would crawl down the back-yard wall.
The aroma of burning coal,
and on my rashed cheeks
the frozen tear-drops making lines.
Seeing the freezing fog of clouds
Mother would call us standing in the door
and we would all rush to our homes,
carrying those dirty marbles.
I’d look at the night sky
and secretly pray for the snowfall,
and in the early morning
pick up the starry flakes of falling snow in the yard,
gazing the snow-pouring sky
and imagining to be flying with those flakes.
Then you came…and the childhood’s December passed.
Then for hours under that crawling cold sunshine,
in those shivering setting evenings,
i kept decorating myself
with silvery snow tumbling from the sky
to catch your single glimpse,
and on that white sheet of Earth
all my foot-marks
came to your door.
Then that December passed too.
And look…i am still standing at the same corner of the street.
Shivering setting evening is there too
but golden sunlight doesn’t slither down.
Time seems to have stopped.
The snow flakes in my hair,
though pouring silver
can’t make them wet.
What a strange snowy evening this is
whose frost can’t freeze my tears.
The smoke of that burning coal
but has lost its aroma.
And look, the door of my home stands open but
Mother’s call is lost somewhere.
Why are all the roads to your house
How different this snowy evening is from my childhood’s december!
(Translated by me)