This morning when sun was hiding in gloom
There arose a throng of cries with doom
I peeped out of the window to check what
Saw a dead crow condoled by crows lot
Cries were too pathetic high on pitch
That all the trees even looked low pitched
Clouds gathered fast to clear off the pathos
Poured and poured in their full compass
That dead crow was washed away very soon
As if by nature's rites in commiseration
Who this morning in a death of crow, the whole crows cried, all trees even looked low pitched, Clouds tore and washed the dead body and Nature held rites rites in commiseration is so movingly painted here. It may be cited.... Clouds gathered fast to clear off the pathos Poured and poured in theirfull compass That dead crow was washed awayvery soon As if by nature's rites in commiseration Beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing.
Only a poet with a magic touch could transform a trivial looking incident into a poetic masterpiece. This is poignant as well as humane. Thanks, Indira ji.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Typo....please treat How instead of Who.