A Perennial Flight That Life Is. Poem by Ravi Panamanna
A Perennial Flight That Life Is.
During the youthful period, most of us face the following situation when our friends would be leaving our dales in the hunt of a job. The precepitation is loneliness and a state of disappointment till we also begin to take on to our wings.
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Upon these dales
We were one feather,
Being together,
One long flight
In search of grains.
Upon these branches
We were one long chirp,
Being one harp,
One endless note
In search of life.
The brook yonder,
The fields evergreen,
The melodious wind,
And these cool retreats -
These were our endless meads,
Our throbbing heart,
Our cheerful days
And moments designed for future.
Now, after long seasons,
My friends are in migration.
In search of springs of life
They are leaving these vales.
One by one
It is a long miss.
Beyond yonder hills
It is all a vanishing trail.
Here, within the veil of mist,
Melodious nights return to my dreams.
Here, within my diminishing circle
I am the only answering echo.
When my friends are busy on the fields
How can I miss the grains of life?
Life indeed is a perennial flight,
I too prepare for better sights.
26/02/2009
I sense a convergence of effulgence and determination. We are not taken by the wind but determinably navigate its currents. The bird is like a ship in that sense...or a vessel which is carried and in its breast the spirit. As we travel others in our flock are coursed and carried away. The bird is the highest form of metaphor for either diaphonous existence or dream of escape. Thanks for sharing this with us.
Life indeed is a perennial flight, ....this is lovely...a truth well penned
lovely, nostalgic poem of days gone by. concluding lines are philosophical- very true; life is a perrenial flight. 10 mamta
Fabulous expression! It reminded me of my school days, during the visit to my native place. The company of my village friends and cousins was the most attractive feature of the days in native place! Visit to the hometown is not charming anymore and is rather ceremonious, because the peers are all busy in 'amassing' the grains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 8:50:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
'Here, within the veil of mist, Melodious nights return to my dreams. Here, within my diminishing circle I am the only answering echo..' Beautiful lines with the touch of melancholy and nostalgia..Very true, thanks for sharing, Ravi. Yelena M.