The Evening Primrose
Who knows what secrets she holds,
What sorrows, behind blue eyes..
She was a bud, dreaming of tomorrow
When she'd flower, when she'd see the world,
See the ecstasy, feel the joy,
Dreaming of colours and sensations unknown.
But unbidden came the night,
A crushing, apathetic night.
Is it blindness, or a darkness of the soul
That robs her of her dreams.
Who knows what secrets she holds,
The Evening Primrose, that blooms at dusk.
Here today, gone tomorrow,
None to admire her hue, her fragrance,
Except the night, that coldly night.
She longs for the warmth of morning,
Longs, against all that says otherwise, for
A caress from the sun, before she withers.
But for now, she's alone in the dark..
PS: This one, again, is not mine, just translated from Malayalam by me. Acknowledgements to a friend, n the author.
PPS: Dedicated to one of the most remarkable ladies I know, Miss. D.
