I Do Not Understand
I do not understand it, nor can I say about it,
by Bijay Kant Dubey
Will they forget to write with pen and paper some day,
Come that some day,
When I shall tell you,
What I had before?
Now the time is come
And they like not to write letters,
Write and post them and drop down into the mail-boxes
Meant for these,
Nor do the post-men take care of to deliver most urgently.
What a day has come,
You say it to me;
You say it to me,
Will they forget to write,
Will letter-writing turn into a dead art?
Now they write not on paper
With the pen,
Fold not the inland letter cards nor the envelopes
To close and seal it with the gum,
Write the name and address of the recipient
With the sender’s name and address
As these will take their time
And they have no time to think and recollect.
And with a change in time and temperament,
I find then all silently
Clicking the computer mouse, not the rat mouse
To type it digitally and to post it magically
To the sender in no time
And the message comes,
And these are reaching of course.