Passing A Pond, Disconsolate Poem by Ananta Madhavan
Passing A Pond, Disconsolate
He was one of those who fail, but have to bear
Their burdens with Stoic self-pity perverse.
- -
A poet in his youth, tired of toil and reverses,
Went for an aimless walk in a historic town,
He was one of those who fail, but have to bear
Their burdens with Stoic self-pity perverse.
This young man had ‘friends' and learned kin
With tinges and twinges of sympathy for him,
But they would not warmly praise his tales;
He had to plead to get back his manuscript.
The youth was sure he had something to say,
Something unsaid by anyone before him.
He wrote his poems on scraps of one-side paper
And hid his diary underneath the mat.
That day he strolled around a shaded cove,
And saw the paddling ducks with wonder. 'They
Know their ways, but are they content to be
Kin flock of feathers, more at peace than Thou?
'Why, despite all my toil and trouble, why,
If given another chance, like a Hindu re-born
In some other avatar, another life or creature,
Why would I want to be a human, preferably me? '
- - - - - -
a note by my Father, who wrote the philosophical novel,
'The Silver Pilgrimage' (1962, NY) . He had read about
a critic who related how the young poet R.M. Rilke wondered
about the quality of contentment felt by birds like ducks, or
insects like the gnat. My father's novel is about a medieval
prince of Sri Lanka who learns from a pilgrimage to Benares that
'life is sustainable at all points'. My father's long name occasioned
John Updike to write a light verse about it; it is my first name, shortened as 'A'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 11:44:20 PM # 1.0.0.1119
