Miss. Cliff, Sister Of Ancient Young Mountain Poem by Raghavendra Nayak

She stands on the edge of the sea and says-
'Out of the land, No peace'-
The god of wind
And a place of virtue stands

By laughing leaf at green-tongue,
Talking with rocks and stones,
Beside a braid-scull cries
And white bone fires in the deep night

I perfectly preferred to a center
But drop out not an idea of wild wind;
Virtue, peace and silence muted

Yet soil and stone time to speak
Out for the result of soul rest
In the dark and deep holy Ganga
Is not as Oak and Holly

Where I live and learn in the fat forest;
Thousand tongues from trees,
Million words from streams and mountains
That just stood beyond the meadow and the window

Green-eyed mountains and yellow streams
Look like the Christmas cake,
Where the lore looked at the distance destiny
Dark woods bedded here and there break

Up the fat city is nothing,
Except Tower, Temples, Theaters-
But the fair country is everything;
Air, light, active, silence-

Be the lover of mountain and stream
Be a man, not to be a street-scull