The Autobiography Of A Brook Poem by SILPIKA KALITA

You have visited, after a long time, 'Remember; once, I was brimming with might? '
Named babbling brook, revered as a singing deity, how blissful was my sight!
Have glimpses of reminiscences of your childhood, in my mellow abode.
Alas! You might be pondering: 'Why I look so barren, with no traces of aesthetic gleaming left? '
Wailing! How the amenity of my native region
collapsed; with my declining diminishing plight!
Grieve not! with your notes that once, I was such a beautiful soul,
as ascended from heaven to touch the telluric vegetations!

From retrospection, my vivid imagery may still haunt you as the vile contaminated my pores!
I recall, you drew my picturesque portrait, warbling among lush green pastures,
With repeated mellifluous rhymes, glancing among grassy paddocks!
You plucked the wild flowers blooming amidst the meadows, made garlands to wonder like a wood nymph!

How crystal was my flow, even you had the glimpse of your own shadow!
Can't forget, by sitting on my rubble, pony tailing, you took me as your mirror.
You put your hand to touch the floating colourful fishes as springing with my rhythm!
I enriched the flora and fauna of the terrain, whoever came in my course to rejoice with my luminous flow!
Like a serpent, I took ample curves and luscious textures to allure!

bedazzled by my sight, the joyous kids ran miles, only to wonder where I recline!
Elated by their innocence, I blessed them with my crystal beams!
Neither they, nor you while quenching thirst, fail to applaud my pristine beads!

Such spontaneous I were, wondering down the sloping meadows to struck the pebbles,
The faded pebbles, rejuvenated with myriads of colours; once I started my euphonic fusion!
My sweetness rolled over your senses, you owe me as sacred drops!
Now I taste sour: crumbling, dilapidated, with no vestige of sweetness left!
They murmur: 'Now, I worth mere elegy, ' I ask the erudite folly, 'Can they substitute my purity? '
Gone are the resonances of those euphonious odes; those mellow strains of glee!

Still you whisper that from impaired eyes, my meagre counterparts may survive in far-flung valleys!
You replete me with hope to save them, if fortunate to wonder like a vagabond hither and thither on those remote regions.
Lamenting! Imploring, as you yell me like your rearer; to be the conveyer of my dictum, 'Earth's sacred water will wind up soon, tenderly treat them as boon! '
I know, 'you will pen my aching tale, ' you parted with a pellucid pledge, That you would revive me with the aid of the waking conscience of the folk of the adjacent thorp!
'Never say adieu! ' adorable: waiting to come alive with your endeavours: to be the epithet, 'the babbling Brook, ' the euphonic cynosure again! '







Copyright © Silpika Kalita