Two minutes ago, a cyclist rode past.

Now I see a man on a scooter,

And a couple birds flying away from the view.

The mountain borders are rough and curvy,

The heart of it, it’s foggy and lazy,

The feet, alas, I cannot see.

Hark! What’s behind the mountain?

Some exceptional days looking at it

I see things deep into the fog.

Trees bearing dark-green leaves

One wiry footpath, and probably another,

A white temple near the middle,

And cloud clusters floating on the top.

What’s behind the mountain though?

Once in a while, I wake up

Open my window and stare at the mountain.

If not many a things to see

There’re rays of light kissing the tops

Sunrise or sunset, I never know.

If not, I always know what’s behind,

There’s a heart of hope and a life of light.

                                                                              ~Sourav Pattanayak

                                                                                 Kozhikode, India