Chhota Mora Gaonti- My Modest Village Poem by GOBINDA SAHOO

Original Odia: ‘Chhota Mora Gaonti’ by Sachchidananda Routroy
English rendering: Gobinda Sahoo
(1)
My modest village
In maps or book of geography may not her name be engraved.
My paradise on earth is she,
Where situated my cradle is
My body at the end of play
In the pyre will be blazed.
My modest village.
(2)
In her cradle was I born
Have moved in her orchards for fun
Five are in bosom my little ribs
There, at end of play will set ablaze.
My modest village.
(3)
As blood her water runs
As river it moves in veins
Her air I carry in my breath
To put the life-ferry on voyage.
My modest village.
(4)
Her blooms, green-creepers both
Bestowed words to my mouth
Her spring dawn at peep of day
To my eyes gave novel image.
My modest village.
(5)
Her brooks in me a poet made
In eyes, images of beauty she gave
In the bosom of stone-chaste
Dreams as waves were but messaged.
My modest village.
(6)
All but are my saviours
Harvest-sweet-harmony-chore
Flute-tune with cowherd
Her jungle and the herbage.
My modest village.
(7)
How eye-catching her radiance!
More attractive is the darkness
Many novel paths are paved
In the entire life voyage.
My modest village.
(8)
From within her belly so small
Several warriors were born
Where are but all renowned,
Who came and left the stage?
My modest village.
(9)
Was born here one Hari Subuddhi
Had possessed all litigant’s suit
Chhani Mohanty as minister had he
And was he with elephantiasis legs.
My modest village.
(10)
Restless they left for Assam
Not a single farmer at home
The jackals in dwellings danced
Wall crippled and not salvaged.
My modest village.
(11)
Mr. Samantaray all powerful
In the village made a rule
Laden with interest, all and sundry
For Rangoon did all have passage.
My modest village.
(12)
Was there one Kapila Nanda
On his walk the street did tremble
In all events he was the head
Would talk wobbling his hand always.
My modest village.
(13)
Agadhu Sandha the tax-collector
Inflicts punishment after shower
Fostering one, he exploits many
Expecting every one for a pledge.
My modest village.

(14)
All nights in intoxication
Gobara Bhoi the watchman
‘Taught a lesson to the thief’
Boasts at daybreak through message.
My modest village.
(15)
Also was there a matted locked lady
Was but aunt of one and all she
Of everyone’s house she knew expanded
Everything at tip of tongue as pages.
My modest village.

(16)
Sharper than knife is her mouth
Inviting always to quarrel about
Will gnaw the bone as well abet
She yells in loads of filthy language.
My modest village.
(17)
In the game of bagudi also
Kelua, Nidhi and Aintha too
Never did game-tune expire
Many live and die always.
My modest village.


(18)
Inhabiting was a widow there
With her infant offspring near
Where only baula blooms did shed
In the lone house at end of village.
My modest village.
(19)
Pouring in was she all devotion
Day n’ night on basil’s platform
Burning like a lamp elevated
With friend-hunger, remains in wantage.
My modest village.
(20)
Whole heartedly I long for
Before her soil to bend over
When away from my village
Come all these as image.
My modest village.