Otherwise blind it is- the alley by my house,
Covered in pitch darkness of the nocturnal sky
Orange glimmers break the blindness however,
Twinkling from a frail lamp-post, weathered now.

A handful of pedestrians, frequent this unfrequented lane occasionally :
Navigated by that glinting apricot lantern
Held up against the ebony blanket of night sky,
As if by an illusory noctambulist, guiding their way,
Safely to their nests- slung at the bottom of the backstreet…

Tinkling their way through, peddles the rickshaw-pullers,
Visible only when under the saffron sodium-vapour lamp;
And then melting harmoniously with the blackness stretched yonder…

The bottle green coconut clan, now shadowed by the inky hue,
The reeling breeze caresses every fixed tree and every gliding soul;
A pleasantly queer ataraxy, hovers through this avenue;
Rejuvenating my sweltered core at the twilight of every sunrise…

That orange twilit alley by my house:
Lying in perfect seclusion from the city’s anarchy,
Untouched by earthly chaos or agony;
Trance-like in night’s tranquility…