Untitled

I sang of learning, and there was nothing.

I spoke of culture, and there was nothing.

I said he was good, but he was a nothing.

I called him tiger—that good-for-nothing.

I mentioned his muscles, which were nothing.

I praised his charity, and he gave me—nothing.

It’s all my fault: words about nothing

get me nothing.

This poem appeared in A Poem at the Right Moment: Remembered Verses from Premodern South India edited by Velcheru Narayana Rao, and David Shulman, published by University of California Press, 1998.

źródło: Read A Little Poetry

10.09.2026

@auvaiyar

Untitled

komentarze