Sitting in a porchway cool,
Sunlight, I see, dying fast,
Twilight hastens on to rule.
Working hours have well-nigh past.
Shadows run across the lands:
But a sower lingers still,
Old, in rags, he patient stands.
Looking on, I feel a thrill.
Black and high, his silhouette
Dominates the furrows deep!
Now to sow the task is set.
Soon shall come a time to reap.
Marches he along the plain
To and fro, and scatters wide
From his hands the precious grain;
Muse I, as I see him stride.
Darkness deepens. Fades the light.
Now his gestures to mine eyes
Are august; and strange, - his height
Seems to touch the starry skies
Isn't it wonderful how a poet can bring alive a simple moment that one might see repeated often during his life but make it so rich and powerful that it sticks to your memory like a bur and somehow represents something larger than life- -I have to read more by Toru Dutt
Now his gestures to mine eyes Are august and strange-his height Seems to touch the starry skies. Simply wonderful diction. Thanks for sharing.
......truly an amazing and beautiful write, and many thanks to the sower for providing us grain for bread ★
Darkness deepens. Fades the light. Now his gestures to mine eyes Are august; and strange, - his height Seems to touch the starry skies a very fine poem. tony
Hats off to the minute observations and empathy with which the sower and his actions are narrated. It has made this poem marvelous.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a simple and austere moment, perhaps otherwise lost forever, but it struck the heart of a skilled poet and moved his pen. The simple complexity of life and labor; the intimate relationship between man and the earth which nourishes him, shelters him, imparts life to him; the hint of mortality touching immortality as the eyes of a poet lift to the stars. Exquisitely captured and beautifully rendered.