Pinjore Gardens heralds the dawn
of that hilly kingdom Simla.
The streams had cleft gorges deep
and a peep at them would clip our wings.
Our vision failed to count the rows
of mountains beyond seven.
Springing down from one road to the next
and falling last into the flooded gorge
to swim and see the swimming trees
is a joy in life with thrills and throbs!
Threw bits of bread and drew the rhesus
jam the highway, our noble driver!
No fault of his tilted the lilt of our life.
The clime lulled us all to have a nap
and the girls of schools clapped to wake us up.
“ Oh! Is it rains or hailstones? ”,
we had time to boot and rive the ice.
The runnels roared with rush of water
and the rivulets laid roads on slopes.
A risk to ride the yak or the crock
might trap us in the bowels of the hills!
We beholded through the crevice at Kufri,
the snow-clad ranges of the Himalay.
“ O God! Glissading from those silverbelt
will take us into the realm of Heaven! ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
A lovely and pictureque description of Simla, recalling to mind the beauty of Pinjore gardens and the exciting experiences at Kufri....A nice piece!