In the cold winter morning
the village road was quiet.
Ricksaw puller Tolmu was then fast sleeping
on the grass at the roadside
beside his rickshaw
drunk from the country liquor vendor.
Some goats grazing near him,
Cattlesseen at the roadside paddy fields
grazing stubble or standing lazy
bearing the cold.
At about nine
when the sun shone dispelling the cold
people started going on the road
rows of students going on foot to schools.
Tolmu was still sleeping
enjoying the warm sun light.
But nobody looked at him intentionally
for they seen such a sight frequently.
But his neighbor Fatima laughed imperceptibly
In the passing auto rickshaw seeing him.
After sometime he waked up
and soon remembered-
He was to deliver
four bushels of paddy
from the tenant farmer to the landlord
before the latter's going to office.
Yet the time was late.
Akham, Very nostalgic poem- about village and about winter. Yes, in winter, however you hurry, Yet the time was late. Nice poem. Exquisitely phrased to bring out the right mood of nostalgia. Thank you for sharing. A perfect 10 for you. I have posted a poem A Winter in Delhi. can you read and offer comments? Thank you.
A very realistic portrayal of a pastoral life during winter mornings. Nicely crafted poem. Thanks, Akham ji.
Really good poem, Village life can seem like a rural idyll to outsiders but most villages have a high level of poverty and poor public services.
Yet the time was late. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The memory of a village incident beautifully made into the poem