The Christmas tree is alive with invisible birds.
The room is pleasantly warm
where ‘Mr. Leopold Bloom ate with relish
the inner organs of beasts and fouls.’*
I am not so ghoulish.
In my room, today, I ate a plate of rice;
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow.
I have learnt how to be indifferent
about the gun-fights elsewhere
and the elections on the card.
Yesterday my efforts were smudged by rains;
though I know, monsoon rains are too feeble.
Now, having quenched my hunger, I hope,
a full moon will appear in tonight’s sky
and a complete, meaningful sentence.
*from Ulysses by James Joyce