Nai Mon Aung Thwin - Poems by Nai Mon Aung Thwin

Pear carts 

Too many scratches and scuffs.

I tried.

The fate of a poem

I have it,

The pattern for that poem is

The people have it,

Old and aging

The electric lamp

I said it late at night.

Pine needles, children

The sound of rising wind

Run to the mountainside,

Children's bedtime,

A quiet night,

I can't hear anything else except that sound.

Mountain stream water

Water is hidden.

Night travel

Are we there?

Over four thousand feet high

Dark night on the mountain

The lights are on, one by one.

This is a city.

From my village

Low screen,

Seeing.

Famous

Curves and bends

Myayni Hlale Road

Asphalt road

Railway

I can imagine it.

Night.

From the time of puberty

Some of the people

Under the fading moonlight

They still return home in disguise.

The roar of the Chey (Gee)

When the poem comes in

The rain is beginning to fade.

Yesterday evening

They have already picked it.

Pears

Put on a bullock cart

Soon

Now, let's get out.

Today

Market day.

They will be sold.

The standard of fruits

We will buy again.

I will tell you the amount of rice.

Literary Journal, No. 8, 1989.

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