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| Image / Anirudh Bharat |
This city is overcast today.
Yet as I stand by the window, peering past the black grill,
I see the roads buzzing with rickshaws, cars, and people.
Though my world is confined within fifteen hundred square feet,
I hardly need even that much space.
I stay awake at night,
But my truce with the stars ended long ago.
Life now drifts on like a cactus
Pierced by the pain or affection of this rare, square-shaped machine.
Sometimes I wonder...
Would it have been better if I were not human,
but a fruit-bearing tree instead?
They say trees have no hearts,
No sorrow, no pain,
No hopes, no longing,
No love, no joy
Yet nature befriends them.
They speak with stars,
Fall in love with the moonlight.
Quench their thirst in countless monsoons.
And in the end,
In buds, leaves, blossoms, roots,
Fragrance, fruits, and the shade of tender care
Worn-out Tree Goddess gives herself away.
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| Sabrina Ruben Photography by Carl Scharwath |
Sabrina Ruben is not only a poet but a renowned physician. She is accomplished in art and literature. She has been awarded a bronze medal from the Writers Association of Crimea in the Chekov Autumn festival, the Buriganga award, the Gujrat Shahitiya Academy award, the PEN Palestine Peace Award, and the Bangladesh International Fame Award, among others. She is also a lyricist, having created so many songs in Bangla and English.
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