I caught myself staring blankly out the window,
“What a dour,” the glass hissingly sneered,
Unawed, unthinking, I shrugged off its crack,
Alas! Once more it hummed:”why’re your eyes sad?”

“Quit worrying,” murmured I,
while shivering in the cold.
“It’s no use”,I urged it to let me sulk.
Lament nor yield to gloom:
none of both has helped.

With no one listening,
sounds are futile, so is a yelp.

In a nightmare, I saw a moribund woman,
She plunged into a crowd blind of lurking assassins,
I cried. Like mad,I screamed : “Go, run for your life!
Then sunbeams dazzled me, spared her, woke me sweaty,
weary of her plight.

By Issa

One thought on “The Talking Windowglass”

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