There was a time, my son,
Wild parrots shrieked
And koels sang from the groves
To wake the humans from sleep,
No clang of machines drove
Them to the end of their life.
There was a time, my son,
Rainbow colored Gujarati women
Would weave their dreams
With their tender bangled hands,
They dreamt their life
In the color of yellow and crimson
Around the corner of our streets,
No globalization drove them
To the far away wilderness.
There was a time, my son,
Elders uttered parables
Under the shades of coconut trees
In the corner of the streets,
While happy mothers fed moon-rice-
Hand-made in the grinding stones-
To their really hungry children.
There was a time, my son,
The crystal water of our brooks
Faithfully drew our pictures,
And we swam with silver fishes
In the morning cool water,
No beverage factory then
Made life-drops silver coins.
I tell you, I tell you, my son,
There was a time
We really lived our life!
J T Jayasingh
I'm wordless to praise you....excellent work...especially the third stanza took me to my olden days....beyond remarks wonderful...congrats
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ohhhh! ! ! brilliant The poet rocks especially the last stanza very beautiful congrats sandhya