Mohan Rana - The Washerman

Silently watching the morning's brilliant
light tear the dense clouds
I forgot the sky and
the aching hand
Watching the brimming reflection
wrinkle the water
I forgot my own age
Watching the bloodied
shadows in the swaying greenery
I forgot the nowness of the dead
and turned to something else
Stirring the basket of clouds
into the blue sky
I wash myself

[The literal translation of this poem was made by Lucy Rosenstein
The final translated version of the poem is by The Poetry Translation Workshop]

Mohan Rana

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-washerman/