A Montage Of An Arcadian Landscape Poem by Valsa George
A Montage Of An Arcadian Landscape
The early February dawn is cool,
The sky so blue and cloudless,
Leaves murmur in the breeze,
Birds twitter, preparing to leave their nests,
The stone paved country path
Leading to the quiet flowing river
Lies vacant in patient wait
For the first footsteps to fall.
Villagers walk to the nearby temple,
With thoughts so pure and mind so humble.
Farmers with spade and hoe on shoulders,
Have set out to till their fields far away.
Youngsters jog in track suits along village roads,
Leaving behind the city of smoke and soot.
The cattle are let out from their folds;
Raising dust, they trot along the muddy tracks.
A little girl with ebony eyes and wavy tresses, I saw.
Sure, an elfin of the grove!
Her flowing skirt playing in the breeze,
Pacing up a meadow,
Straying as in a dream land,
Flitting from flower to flower like a butterfly,
Gathering fresh flowers in her basket.
What for… I wonder!
May be to be strung into a garland
To adorn the family deity as an offering
With a plea to grant her some secret wish,
Or to be placed as a wreath
Moistening it with her tears
On the tomb of someone so dear
Still an aching memory, in her little heart..
Or to be gifted to her friends
In return for something, she craves
That might please her childish fancy
With what quiet delight
These scenes fill my heart to the brim
And how like a peacock in strut plumes
My mind, dances in frenzied ecstasy
On this cool February dawn!
Dear Madam Valsa, Kudos to you for having written a down to facts poem on the lines of a few recollections very dear to a poet like you. The fact is such Arcadian landscapes do exist in many parts of India even today. Life in all its variety struggles to manage the old show here and there and when the lands that we have ever been to transform a little by little, we feel like the seemingly appealing charms of the native land fading out.The greater tragedy is our ageing which cannot be reversed. Where the riches and vanity thereof have replaced the wealthy and true pride, life has to be at times like this... We have to compromise with the other accomplishments which could be traced as well
Your graphic description of the Arcadian landscape took us along with you to the early February dawn and no wonder these scenes fill your heart to the brim and make you dance in frenzied ecstasy ! Remarkable! !
You have so touchingly captured the pristine beauty of your arcadian village relating to your childhood days, so full of peace and bliss. How villagers were so humble and devotees to God is well painted in this poem. I quote....Villagers walk to the nearby temple, / With thoughts so pure and mind so humble. How a little girl was flitting from flower to flower like a butterfly and gathering fresh flowers in her basket is hauntingly expressed. Really it is a brilliant poem.10
So it was Valsa, collecting flowers in a basket, I wish I would have seen her at that dawn, I would have written a poem on this lovely scene much before Valsa! But she is still gathering flowers in the same old basket, isn't she?
beauty in the rustics scenes of India...............well brought out in words...such taht one can see right in your words
I have my own memories of the beauty and simplicity of my childhood days, nothing is more poignant than to be reminded I can never go back...
A literary piece! ! ! fine and refined, with this little girl with wavy tresses is the integral part of this scene... a strong though temporary escape is this arcadian landscape...what if temporary? Do we not live years in moments?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 3:55:44 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Smells wonderfully nostalgic. Life is lived to fullest amidst nature. That pristine beauty, that purity, that silence, that virginity....in trance we oft converse even with the non living beings. We are only existing away from nature, and for the generations to come living life would be an forlorn term.