Whither from this whistling bird
making its mellifluous calls?
Is it playing its pipe from the tree near
or the tree there behind the tech-park?
For half an hour its unceasing music
has been passing through cool air in the morn
and sweetening my ears and mind.
It doesn't know this simple man
teaching English in SRMSTE&R
is holding his Cell Phone
and recording its heavenly melody,
a pathetic note to melt all hard hearts
which cut trees and wipe out groves.
Just a month's back a hurricane wind
from the eastern Bay of Bengal
hit the sylvan campus of SRM
and fell down trees and swept off the branches.
I hear a sombre kind of trill
from this nature-gifted songster
and a doubt arises in the weeping corner
of my battered and beaten heart,
" Has it lost its soul-mate to the fury
of the merciless winds that hit last month? '.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem