This dancing of the light on the leaves
This playing of the wild winds
Among the sal groves
They have all maddened my mind
Along this red-earth road
That man going to the village market
The little girl sitting on the dust
Playing alone with her tray of toys
Whatever I see before me
They all make music in my eyes.
Mine is only a bamboo flute
And I play only rustic tunes
An earthly bond of this dusty earth
Has bound my mind
I have borrowed my view
From the views of those boys
I have set my tunes
To the tunes of those boys
Who have drunk the lights
Flowing from the blue of the skies.
Whenever I want to go to a far away place
They crowd around me to dissuade
The village sky waving rustic flowers
Beckons me back
I am yet to exhaust whatever is near
And whatever is sweet
So I don’t hanker after
Whatever is far
All these titbits
I am yet to find
Their farthest limits
I am yet to finish my songs
Of these ordinary things.
So wherever I go
This only I sing
How much they have pleased
How they have held me in a spell
Day and night I have no time
To do anything else
My eyes are drowned
Drowned is my mind
Don’t call me
It’s of no use –
Let others aim something big
Let them gather more and more
Let me rove
Let me sing
I don’t want to be someone big.
—————
The End
And that’s the End of the Poem
© Poetry Monster, 2021.
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