THE CRESCENT MOON

At the sun-set time,

My mind imparts with woes of life,

That begins with surgery

For removing stone

From kidney of my wife,

And after one month

Another surgery to be done

For extracting stone from her gallbladder,

And she bears pain

I grieve to her suffering.

My mind changes time to time,

As if some stones are solid with sadness,

I look at the evening sky,

The crescent moon glancing at me violently,

While it is cool with its black and white smiling,

Whispers of love cannot hold humors,

And we are toys of heavenly purposes.

Many times I tried to explain the situation,

Every time I feel loneliness, with pains for her.

She sits in a chair; I am the man on the doorway,

I cannot make her life comfortable,

Others are sitting at the other side of glass,

Thirty two years of married life move to a risk,

The crescent moon is changeable to a full moon,

We are not changeable like the moon,

Colors of the twilight sky may change to crimson red,

We are not hopeful for changes, again we are hopeful.