I wake up early to the cawing of crows,
to watch the river, and the fishing dhows.
The aroma of coffee filters through,
of idli and sambar too.
After breakfast I take a walk
to the temple, where I make a halt,
To thank God and salute the deity
for the village, its sights, sounds and beauty.
The farmer, he herds his buffaloes
to plough the field and sow the seeds;
The shepherd, he takes his sheep
to the pastures where grass grows deep.
The school children, they hustle by,
skipping and hooting at the passers-by.
'Ahoy'! I shout at those kids
They laugh out loud at their merry deeds.
The village maidens, their luscious lips,
their taut breasts and swaying hips,
The fisherwoman, she bargains her share,
a wee bit of cleavage for a dearer fare.
I buy the fish and cook a meal,
I drink some toddy
I make a deal,
I will settle down to marry here,
A village belle, full of fire
Make babies and retire
2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem