To the lusty and luscious lyrics
Sweetly sweetly they sung,
After spring – my full sprouted spring
And a sumptuous soluble pompousness
But ‘fore my Summer at its best,
Thou the bird at my horizon-lost,
Woo with thy winsome wings;
Then, weep and wean, my poor Rainbird…

A wet night inside ‘Ramdas’, when –
‘Conary’ just faced, all gazed,
Bussed the right to his right:
“Yess-pee-tax for medicines”, I cursed:
“Quit it outside, sorry, Kit-carrier” –
‘Kaykay’ my later gate-way…

Onwards the time, yea, from the teat
Sturdily sturdily oozed their life-sap;
Made me his bosom apart myself,
Offered his homely air to feel in heart:
An old lane, divine fragrance around;
Topsy-turvy a temple, down in the midst –
Of ‘beauty’ –
With her measuring steps to the music of tits,
Of ‘sympathy’ –
With her down-but-dawn-face, a pale gaze, of ‘truth’ with her genteel silent look,
Of ‘love’ chasing and drawing the long how
And of their all soundless sorrows…

There on the east, green-upland to the temple
Their onus-like, the primo-house his Mana;
One more paying quest under its roof;
Like a pleasing galaxy the other to me,
Our pious ‘Teacherji’ – then reading to be…
Oh! The initial days of bustle but complete nonplus,
Ablaze dead and seen but unspoken moments:
Instead of making the truth incarnated,
On the shores of ‘Bharatha’ sheer and shiny,
Along with his teens-love,
As if all betwixt the beatings –
Wee – we – wee – we – wee – we,
Were there Kaykay’s ailing eyes…

A hack he’s in his eyes, a southerner,
Or as an orphaned scorpion-tutor;
Oh! I’ve been treated but unlike…

Would have told me, otherwise, nothing
Of ‘Mydream’, ‘Award’ and ‘Nim’ –
A bit of sympathy amid the beauty and love;
Yea, weep and wean my poor Rainbird…

An ‘image’ once the beauty had from –
Else a caste as there thy nest;
To be the tinkling ornament on foot
(On his beauty’s dream-like foot)
Might’ve dreamt her image, not certain;
Hadn’t doubts of their ‘hallowed doze’,
All but a few of the green – upland;
But all and all heard her voice upon it –
The topsy-turvy temple in a creeping darkness;
Seen his body lying on ‘the last sacred steps’,
Crying aloud the beauty wasn’t far off,
None, my bird, saw the sufficed snake,
For they kept closed, the doors of ‘sreekovil’;
Yea, weep and wean my poor Rainbird…

As an undulating waters
Reflecting an azure seventeen,
With whole mirth and merriment she could,
Quite apt she’s the unique award;
The pond’s full of fronds of weeds, but,
The temple-pond, she hath the ones –
Itchy pain-bits of inane longings:
Had the bright could continue her studies –
Yea, weep and wean my poor Rainbird…

The lids of a day-light was closed almost,
As Award informed herself for me:
“Something to read is always good…”
“So I’m reading”, thru’ my lips an unknown;
Freeing to me her fear then: “What thou art -? ”
Tried to sigh (may be to draw me) :
“People I have loved, known or admired” –
(I don’t mind if you need it) :
Got it, fingered it and it returned,
Whispering – “what I need is so sweet”;
”A love story’s nothing but a sweet lie
And so the love is less sweet…”
The mind of the love was absent, the dusk over,
But the book in my hands, yet opened…

If she were the beauty –
The beauty so shined and shaped,
Would I be devoted for the shadow of Mydream?
(Her to draw I’ve been doing adore, but –
Not to love I’ve been doing like.)
Still I’ve the doubt, my bird, for doubt;
Yea, weep and wean my poor Rainbird…

Unlike them, the betwixt in my pulse;
Bearing the very burden of her head,
All over the vibrant roof, spread –
The little plant of yellowish leaves,
Used to taste uvula for their fate;
(Oh! Nim –
The dawn-colour in my reminiscence,
My good-old weakness in the rainbow,
For good you forgot even to smile –
As you just did it firstly, or not?)
To see pyro-psyches penta-twos, inside
The shelter with her shelter, she’s indeed;
It was of inmost innocence, their tribulation,
Onto the cruel shells of ‘shantian-penury’,
The drops of tearful life, they pelted;
(And doing the same even now -?)
Yea, weep and wean my poor Rainbird…

Made up her mind and edified her soul,
As thus the truth was wanted to do,
As she herself or usual; their Teacherji:
(Our pious Teacherji – then reading to be…)
Such a grace from a’country-maid’ or
Such a womanly etiquette-model,
Never, never I’ve seen – never the truth ‘fore.

In thy eyes to behold the deadless morning –
Sprung on the tips of stainless savannas
Such as ‘fore-dawn’s snow-flakes remaining –
(Oh, what a fool of fool I’m to -!) ,
As so simple and ordinary of a day,
I be happy ever and ever, owing and moody:
“Here to know it to go out he’s not
For the strike it be postponed – my exam? ”
-Calmless but a soothing sound;
“I’ll do, you do need him to” and so I walked,
Walked a long, all about their ‘exam’ to enquire;
“It’s only after a week”, as a sooth
Gave her ear with a hush impatience –
She and thanked with a soulful sanctity;
Got my heart, my heart and mind,
Ah! For awhile, for a while only;
Yea, weep and wean my poor Rainbird…

Done can sing in a single tone,
Move on the greens like winds of flowers,
Make the doves flying high up the skies –
Come down to dance with
In a tune, even in a rhythm less lust,
They, all they were one, when, at times,
The ideas to be made or comments –
On us, yea, began to take thus:
(As they wanted in words so sweet)
Puff-ropes and bottles of ‘Coy Eagle’,
Just to show the sympathy and beauty, the love and truth…

When reaching its zenith then up to the last
Those throbbing days of Spring-maid, Ah!
And I swallowing the meat of gloomy room,
Cursing the sun outside on and around,
Reminding myself my flesh and blood,
Lying on a plain cot, no one knowing
And peering nothing:
Nearer to me came with a wrinkled air
Into the dead silence, she, unusually;
“What you want Nim, what for, what?
Did spread to her, my fear and concern,
But she paved her words in a breath:
“Mma told – borrow five rupees and it can’t be back”
I was burst into laugh and laugh for a second,
She was bursting into tears and whispered:
“We’re poor enough to return anything, but – “
“But-? ” I did feel my blood cold;
“Kindly do as Kaykay told about,
Help me please, I won’t tell anybody…”
I was like dead in my soul and resurrected:
“I’m here penniless, try tomorrow, Nim,
Never here come, I’ll help you certainly”
Soon the sympathy crept out thru’ my tear-drops;
Yea, weep and wean my poor Rainbird…

Thence they started on, sweety they’re –
Pain, grief, sadness, lamentation,
Their way a must, too a zigzag:
The day, never thought would come so soon,
Across my eyes, nay, my heart, the beauty passed
After the dawn from the temple and a glance,
A glance to enlighten thou forever,
Her betrothal, yea, Mydream – my dream;
(Oh! What a fool of fool I’m to -!)
On the eve, saw an old coming,
Coming with a long handled umbrella
As gray as his head, looking like his eyes –
Underneath a double-lens-spectacles,
Come over she looked me first then him,
He looked her first and so I both,
Came there Kaykay at my rescue:
“-Our Teacherji’s, her hus…”
The truth did become another sympathy;
Oh! The truth is nothing else, never be altered…

All the tits and all the bits and all
Of the green upland –
Bearing a grand-old burden,
Beneath its milky silent way,
Living and dying and again living,
Too a sleepy,
They collected for me – seeing off:
”It’s a surprise and I be a loser” –
Whom, I told: “Here all surprises…”
“Would you forget us so sweetly?
To whom, I said slowly and smoothly:
“Your soil and breath and yourselves to my bird…”
Had to hide what not,
Or to hie quietly quietly a star like,
Like a twinkling Hesperian,
To each and every dew drop –
Slumbering and dreaming, dying and dying to live:
Nothing more anything, for my heart;
Reach and refresh then regret and regress,
To read between the lines of everything;
It’s life, our life, I could perceive –
And it to receive…

My Gateway and I, the Beauty and Sympathy,
The Truth and Love and the green upland
Of unborn heavens with a dead Heaven:
Thou, my bird,
To the bow on my ever lost horizon,
Woo with thy winsome wings;
Then, weep and wean my poor Rainbird…

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 7, 2008

Poem Edited: Wednesday, January 15, 2014

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