But there are always folks who think differently and spoil the party . By looking at it with a completely different set of spectacles....
(The poem happened first in Marathi. The English effort follows....)
(photo by harekrishnaji)

काहीतरी उगवल्याचा भास देणारे गवत,
आणि आई पृथ्वी,
निळ्या आभाळाच्या छत्राखाली
थोडा गारवा अनुभवत
संथ पायपीट करते ....
घरातला मिळवता सूर्य
तिला त्याच्या मागे मागे
आणि भोवताली फिरवतो ;
आयुष्ताले ऋतू बदलतात ,
कधी तो तळपतो ,
की कोणाला ग्रहण लागतं,
कधी तो तिचे श्रम ओळखून
ढगामागे तोंड लपवतो ....
पण ती
चालतच राहते, ती चालतच राहते ......
She traverses
the sparse,
barely green,
tough and arid
ground;
She,
Mother Earth,
under
a divine blue
sky umbrella.
The "earning" Son
makes her follow him
endlessly,
sometimes
even around him.
Seasons of Life change,
sometimes
burning hot,
sometimes
with eclipsed wishes,
and sometimes,
he realizes the
value of her
unending efforts,
and bashfully hides
behind a cloud....
But Ma Earth,
she keeps on moving,
moving, moving,
relentless
in her space....
No comments:
Post a Comment