Time Stops at Shamli II

On the 15th day of March,
came a lustful wind a-blowing
and the writing on the paper asked
'Tell me about faith
and the denial of happiness'

The tinker had travelled
to dusty cities
and cool, blue mountains
To bustling farms
and dreamy sea sides
Tapping his tools
and mending
broken pans and hearts.

The mendicant in the river
with his naked body and
matted hair,
suckling at the generosity
of the sharp, cold night air

I lie in my berth
and close my eyes
sucking in the arid stench
in a night train flashing past
towns by the railway tracks

As my heart grows heavy
and the rattle of snores
fill the carriage
My dreams flood
with memories of Shamli