The Amputations Poem by Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
The Amputations
Thirsty always I drinks
Every drops of water in the earth
That stored well in rains
Kept for us for our own survival
Gives back to the earth
Sprinkling through my little leaves
And pride myself for the good deeds
Enough shades that gives
The humans are happy about us, the Tree
They lately approves my existence
Not at all worthy judgement I feel
They will come, cut and remove the branches
Unconcerned of my pain of amputation
They reckon me only as a tree
Not knowing well I am sensuous enough
To know my pains and sacrifice
Still maintains my coolness here.
Standing like a towering personality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 8:23:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I think I understand. Were I a tree I would be much happier if I were appreciated. I enjoyed shading the humans. Why don't they give me a pat on the side and say thank you. I give them fruit and cordwood and shelter. They call men who acknowledge me tree huggers. This in a derogatory way. Shame. (A rough statement of my understanding of your great little poem, Gangadharan.) Such a name! Walk through the forest with approbation