From childhood, my Crayola-trained American eyes recognise Cherry Red Royal Purple Robin’s-Egg Blue Peachy Pink. But here there is Train Ticket Lavender, Thambili Orange, Milk-Tea Brown which is creamier than Spicy Pahe Brown. Paddy Field Green is a favorite, as is Floor Polish Red. Poya Day Whites a shade crisper than Jasmine White. Indian Ocean Turquoise endless, shimmering. But nothing ...
“What was it like to love him? Asked Gratitude. It was like being exhumed, I answered, and brought to life in a flash of brilliance. What was it like to be loved in return? Asked Joy. It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence. What was it like to ...
Late in October |Linda PastanLate in October, I watch it all unravel–the whole autumn leafery succumbing to rain. At the moment of their most intense beauty, reds and yellows bleed into each other like dried paints on a palette–those ghosts of pictures never painted.Perhaps beauty is the mother of death, not the other way around. Perhaps the rain itself is ...
" Did you know that in Persian the word sad means a dam, a barrier built across a river designed to stop the water from flowing?" Yalda asks"Yes I did," He replies, smiling. -From the short story The Interpreter by Kate Elkingtonදැන සිටියාද ඔබ වේල්ලක් බව, ශෝකයසවිමත් ව බැමි අහුරා කඳුළු සුරැකිව සඟවන කිසිත් නොවුණියි අඟවන හදවතේ සිව් කෙළවර එවන් ...
I am of the earthand to earth I shall return once morelife and death are old friendsand I am the conversation between themI am their late night chattertheir laughter and tearswhat is there to be afraid ofif I am the gift they give each otherthis place never belonged to me anywayI have always been theirs-Rupi Kaurදිනමිණ- වසත් සුළඟ 22.08.2017
Spring by Linda Pastan Just as we lose hopeshe ambles in,a late guestdragging her hemof wildflowers,her tornveil of mist,of light rain,blowingher dandelionbreathin our ears;and we forgive her,turning fromchilly winterways,we throw offour faithfulsweatersand openour arms. මව්බිම පුවත්පත යං අතිරේකය 19.11.2019
Playthings | Rabindranath Tagore Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning. I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig. I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour. Perhaps you glance at me and think, "What a stupid game ...
"In China we say 'Xiu hai shi ke tong zhou'" Mr. Shi says." It takes three hundred years of prayers to have the chance to cross a river with someone in the same boat.""There is a reason for every relationship, that is what the saying means. Husband and wife, parents and children, friends and enemies, strangers you bump into in ...
