Treasure Island

Rajendra padhi


AN EPITAPH


AN EPITAPH

The woods above shine green
Wet in dew drops with birds I sing,
I wheel with the wind
Over the leaning grass on lea
Though my white beard mocks
I stay young, I stay free.

When the sun gurgles water
Putting mouth in the drifted stream
Appears men with treacherous hands
Dump the hills hollow
Knife down the trees,
They stride deeper and deeper
Deeper into its heart
A machine like the monster roars
The spring ails
The songs wither in the vale,
The blue air withers too in dust
The buds fell on the ground
Without the stems.

The forest is thirsty
Indeed its pulse is weak
Water, water it cries
No where, no where I say
Shaking my heart, breaking my heart
I scream
I am dying with the hill.

Submitted: Monday, February 17, 2014

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