I envy those
who have a house of their own.
Who can say their feet
rest on what is theirs alone.
Who do not live on sufferance
in strangers' shells,
as my family has all our life
and as I probably will.
A place on the earth untenured,
soil, grass, brick, air,
to know I will never have to move.
To review the seasons from one lair.
When nights come, to lie down in peace.
To know that I may die as I have slept.
That things will not revert to a
stranger’s hand.
That those I love, may keep what I
have kept.
- Vikram Seth
No comments:
Post a Comment