Already Gone |
|
Six sweet mangoes... All big and yellow and ripe And you shouldn't go pluck them My grandson is coming And he likes mangoes. You should go down to the fish market And get the biggest catch of the day He wouldn't like my curry-chicken anymore For now he lives in America And there they eat it fried. The ol' mango tree has withered Having cast the last fruit of the season I wake up early in the morning To hear you sing those songs of hope And chant from Psalms and Proverbs. Your bed lies coldly in the corner Neatly made and untouched And the veranda is so barren without your laughter Did you know I turned twenty-two the other day? O won't you touch my forehead and bless me? The monsoon rain is now weeping at your window And deep inside this childish heart of mine, I'm weeping too, dear grandma For I have come... But you are already gone. |