Author A. K. Ramanujan You ask me to forget him, how can I? His mountain, wearing its dark raincloud white-crested as a bean flower the east wind opens, his mountain, that blue sapphire, is never out of sight. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments