A mountain is an abode of Lords... for some..
worship its very sight.. to seek blessings..
some see it.. as a scenic wonder.. by mother nature...
and explore to satiate their wanderlust..
The serenity of the river tickles some poetic mind..
weaving his words round.. the glimmering body...
Its also viewed as a huge bath spot..
Some cleaning their bodies.. some cleaning their souls..
the lifeless mud thats spread all round the earth...
it becomes a mother.. for a soldier..
it becomes a pot in the hands of the potter...
it gives birth to crops.. when seen by a farmer..
Things are same.. where ever they be...
They look same where ever they lie..
but its identity is a thought thats all scattered..
what you see in it.. is what matters! ! ...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder!