[after Boris Pasternak]
Wonderful that road to the open
horizon wide as the sea
importunate beggars traffic snarls
mosquitoes floating by
skyscrapers line up with clouds
fade to black like a volcano
the street has grown damp
you sway drift stub your toe
the crowd choppy like waves
James Dean punks jostle us
you sway drift stub your toe
wonderful to walk the streets like this
isn’t that our mall in the distance?
how can you tell? isn’t that the theatre?
getting there yes found it at last
crowds and people and drama all here
and the Milky Way slants towards Chennai
like a cow-wallow and if you look
behind the mall it will astonish you
lying bare naked in the dark
Meera is fluent in English
loves Wodehouse and Wilde
raised a theosophist
proud and dignified
the youngsters jostle her
and she stops and withers them
with a look all India
in her tiny grandeur then
and up we go treading
on the universe
when did the stars descend
midnight sink through the mirror glass?
let the city arbitrate
and night judge between us
when did the mosquitoes stop whining
cars brushing off the beggars?
close your eyes you’ll go blind
in the beginning we fell
Meera is blazing in the darkness
like a parachute terrible beautiful
Jack Ross
Dear Paula,
I thought you might like this translation / adaptation from Pasternak – he got lost on the steppe, but I got lost in India instead …
Lots of love, jack
A Poetry Shelf for Paula Green 
Finishing reading my birthday shelf poems on Poetry day with this adorable poem from Jack Ross. Love the ending and love the comment about losing yourself. A concatenation of losing oneself. Ha! This sparks me to read and write poems. There is a honey fluency here in the pile up of detail that is so infectious. I have been so moved by this gift. And that it carried me all the way to Poetry Day. Thank you!
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Dear Paula,
Just caught up with your lovely comment on my (& Boris Pasternak’s) poem. Thanks so much! Hope your poetry day was as much fun as mine was …
lots of love, jack
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