Little Bird..Is Your Heart Parched ? Poem by sundaram chandrakalaadhar

Little Bird..!

I doubt your heart would become parched
by efforts to roll your breaths into verses-

and raising your bills into the skies
pipe your melodies flooding the dawn....

Where is the fountainhead of
the deathless springs of your music?

What is the interwoven message
in your unbroken songs?

Is it the shackles-shattering joy
with the birth of hopeful morn?

Is it specially for the mornings
do your songs surge in waves?

Or else, is it just for your songs
the morns arrive in hurried steps?

Which angel exactly at dawn
daily unfailingly wakes you up?

Who is she that floods your heart
with sweetness and verve?

Wherefrom do you steal the honey
dripping in your melodies?

If not, what swings in your small heart
is it a honey comb?

Or else, is your heart itself
structured in the heavy honeycomb?

Does your heart hold ' Paanjajanyam'
the mighty conch of 'Lord Krishnaa'?

What is your wage for singing songs
for 'Lord Sun' at the temple of 'Day '?

Is everyday of the year to you
the salary day of the month?

Do you decorate the golden wrists of dawn
full with the bangles of melody?

Tactfully moulding the syrup of music
fixing a flute as its mouth...

to brighten the heart
lighting the lamps of tunes..

does 'Mother Nature' create you
in her moments of ecstasy?

Have you bound and brought the sun
by your musical lines, little bird?

Tell me, little bird, is the infant 'Sun'
delivered by 'Mother Music'
at the house of East
in the birth pangs of tunes?