My city limps back to soft caresses of a new dawn
whose bleeding fingers paint the sleepy eastern sky
with hues of agony caused by the lashes of last rain
and birds fan ancient wounds, as up into air they fly;
the breeze implores the drooping flowers of the morn
to cleanse the air with their balmy touches all around,
seeds sown do fight on, though powerless to be born
as smokes from relief camp over earth do still abound;
ruffled bodies long for rest and embattled minds roost
in shelter homes, for a dream to take wings from dust,
drizzles douse burning hearts ere life they can boost
to rev up love of life that has gathered a mass of rust;
like phoenix we rise from ashes of dreams to fly again
and hover high in sky of rainbows like eagles over rain.
this is a replete poem Saroj. I can miss my lunch after it and not feel hungry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Saroj, such a wonderful write........................