Just now, from inside the house,
The winter has stepped out—
From the body, from the mind, and from thoughts.
The sleep suddenly broken
By someone’s phone call
Craves a warm, gentle touch.
In the rich aroma of the teacup,
The newly written schedule of the day
Feels fresh and new.
The messages on the mobile screen
No longer bring much excitement.
Yet, at the certainty of someone’s calling voice,
The feet step forward…
Though the laziness still refuses to break.
“It’s been so many days since you came for a walk;
Are you afraid of the winter…
Or of your promises?”
The dreams of the night,
The half-written poems,
And the warmth of the body
Look so innocent nestled inside the blanket.
But outside,
The fog trapped in the veil of the saree (Panata),
The dew resting on the palms,
And the tender rays of the morning sun—
Are all waiting.
The hands no longer reach out
For those romantic, enchanting poems
Read until midnight.
In the desperate hope of a restless, passionate embrace,
The morning winter keeps gesturing with its hands
From the other side of the window.
— Ratnamaya Tripathy
Adhyayana, Balangir
Original Odia : Ratnamaya Tripathy
Translated by : Dr. Khyatimaya Tripathy
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