Translated by Dileep Jhaveri
On my daily route a cobbler sits
like a cancelled bus-stop
Like the toe-hold of a slipper
the lines of smile
have been detached from his face
The cobbler is fixed
on the corner of the road
like some martyr’s memorial stone
and the swift-footed life is fleeting by
He appears seated
even when he gets up
because of his back stooped like a bow
He keeps mending
the customers and the days
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