The early February dawn is cool,
The sky so blue and cloudless,
Leaves murmur in the breeze,
Birds twitter, preparing to leave their nests,
The stone paved country path
Leading to the quiet flowing river
Lies vacant in patient wait
For the first footsteps to fall.
Villagers walk to the nearby temple,
With thoughts so pure and mind so humble.
Farmers with spade and hoe on shoulders,
Have set out to till their fields far away.
Youngsters jog in track suits along village roads,
Leaving behind the city of smoke and soot.
The cattle are let out from their folds;
Raising dust, they trot along the muddy tracks.
A little girl with ebony eyes and wavy tresses, I saw.
Sure, an elfin of the grove!
Her flowing skirt playing in the breeze,
Pacing up a meadow,
Straying as in a dream land,
Flitting from flower to flower like a butterfly,
Gathering fresh flowers in her basket.
What for… I wonder!
May be to be strung into a garland
To adorn the family deity as an offering
With a plea to grant her some secret wish,
Or to be placed as a wreath
Moistening it with her tears
On the tomb of someone so dear
Still an aching memory, in her little heart..
Or to be gifted to her friends
In return for something, she craves
That might please her childish fancy
With what quiet delight
These scenes fill my heart to the brim
And how like a peacock in strut plumes
My mind, dances in frenzied ecstasy
On this cool February dawn!
Beautiful poem Valsa, sounds like it used to be a heavenly place. Some lovely lines here, very descriptive and inspired write.
Ahh remind me the whole story of Wordsworth Solitary reaper.... Lines Sweetly glides from nature to a sweet Lil fairy...... Pure display of romanticism..... Wish to read the next episode...
A lovely poem. The word Arcadian is usually used in the pejorative to refer to a fantasy or an ideal of a simple life. And yet in our minds we relish simpler times and places and they become our nostalgic nervana. Usually we romanticise our simple childhoods if they were happy, and why not, but for the adults life was always toil and routine. Please read my poem The good old days, to compare and tell me your thoughts. A very lovely write.
You paint a very beautiful picture. A great poem.
You have so touchingly captured the pristine beauty of your arcadian village relating to your childhood days, so full of peace and bliss. How villagers were so humble and devotees to God is well painted in this poem. I quote....Villagers walk to the nearby temple, / With thoughts so pure and mind so humble. How a little girl was flitting from flower to flower like a butterfly and gathering fresh flowers in her basket is hauntingly expressed. Really it is a brilliant poem.10
So it was Valsa, collecting flowers in a basket, I wish I would have seen her at that dawn, I would have written a poem on this lovely scene much before Valsa! But she is still gathering flowers in the same old basket, isn't she?
beauty in the rustics scenes of India...............well brought out in words...such taht one can see right in your words
I have my own memories of the beauty and simplicity of my childhood days, nothing is more poignant than to be reminded I can never go back...
A literary piece! ! ! fine and refined, with this little girl with wavy tresses is the integral part of this scene... a strong though temporary escape is this arcadian landscape...what if temporary? Do we not live years in moments?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
cherish.adorable piece of art about the nature.so all of us have the remorse for our childhood somewhat.and the best memories trace back to the childhood.this is the best montage of the landscape.sounds it is a paradise. cheers~nb