There are forests on either side,
in the middle a glistening path twists and turns
dancing to the rhythm of nature.
From time to time eyes glow in the dark
and little rabbits dance and jump around.
Amidst the palash bushes on the round hillock
I have seen wild peacocks dance
in sudden delight.
In the shade of my tent the golden sitar sounds
from the stream match that grace.
Deer come cautiously to the edge of the river
to drink water at the call of the ancient hermit Sindhu.
A cheetah darts by with a greedy fierce leap,
awakening kathakali rhythms with its wild speed.
Where is that forest, there's no settlements either,
only endless plains, and the lament of dry air.
The forest is cleared, the village has died,
there's no signs of a city, and the
peacocks have been butchered and sold.
Why in this country are people silent and helpless?
Why are rivers trees and mountains so unimportant?
How long do I have to wander all over the country carrying my tent?
When will us expatriates build our own homeland?
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Expatriate by Bishnu Dey )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland