On either side the woods, in the middle the road
Gleamingly goes winding as nature beats the tune.
In the night-light, every now and then eyes glow,
young rabbits jump across dancing.
I have seen in the palasha bushes on rounded hillocks
Wild peacocks' Kathak in sudden joy,
By the shady tent on the golden sitar of the stream
I have counterpointed its grace.
They come in silence to the riverbank and lap their drink
I've heard the fawn-call of the Sindhumuni.
There goes the panther in greedy violent steps
Rousing the entire Kathakali temple of wild life
Where are the woods gone? Yet there are no settlements,
Only the bare plains, only the howl of the dry wind.
The jungles all cleared off, the villages dead, the critics
yet to be founded and the peacocks stuffed into commodities
Why in this land is man dumb and helpless?
Why are rivers, trees, hills so unimportant?
How long do we run about carrying our tents?
When does the alien set up his own home?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem