…And it's just that good old twilight once again,
Bringing, through the lone window of this cubicle,
Onto my tired feet, the shadows from the past;
Faint, yet, profound enough; to emboss
The profile of the tree to which I once belonged …
The air reminds
Of the days bright;
Along with my fellow men, up there,
Playing with breeze was Myself- green;
Adorned with glitzy dew drops,
Toiling day and night, with an ever set mind,
Taking all pains sans an uttered word,
Nurturing my young-ones round the clock,
And guarding them against heat, hail and storms…!
Now today I lie in plight;
Besides the uprooted tree- amongst those disposed;
With expectations both withered and dry-
The expectations that it's now my turn to be nurtured;
But I lie; blown away by my own kinfolk
Just 'coz I've turned yellow, and can serve no longer.
Yet I kill another day of despair,
Hoping the next rendering a moment of solace eternal;
At what, I'd like my soul to be freed,
When happens, nothing else, but the much awaited beckon…
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
http: //poemsbyananth.blogspot.com/
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Along with my fellow men, up there, Playing with breeze was Myself- green; Adorned with glitzy dew drops, .. the much awaited beam of light. very good poem tony