Ganga Sagar Poem by Joydeep Sircar
Ganga Sagar
Prince of gamebirds and master of crooked flight, the snipe
the sea at dusk brought in as prisoner
looked at me with bright obsidian eyes
gently refused food and clumsy care
and was dead by morning.
I had shot many like it in my day.
I had prayed this little one would fly away.
As with all your poems here, this says so much more than its words. You were there; we are there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/28/2024 7:46:53 AM # 1.0.0.1119
It is really heartbreaking when you can't save a creature. Anything to do with birds and animals seems to be more heart rendering. Sincerely Ernestine Northover