Haunted I am day after day
By this sylvan beauty
Which never makes me cloy
So serene is the lake
Amidst the towering mountains
Sweet elegant yachts glide with the winds
As they were kites in the sky
Oh how lovely is this place!
Only artist understands its worth
And it arouses that artist in every man.
I for one, who has grown each day
In this paradise, have fallen in love over again
With each passing day
As the sun rises, its beauty
Is broken to the waking eyes,
One beholds the glimmering surface
Of the lush green lake
Like one in the looking-glass
Adores one’s face
One can sit for thousand years
In profound contemplation of the soul
Such silent is the morn
Only broken by the melodies
Of sweet chirping birds
As the darkness lightens
A muezzin calls
Accompanied by church’s and temple’s bells
One believes he is in god’s kingdom
Where there’s no religion
Only profound spiritual bliss
With early hours gone by
Men begin to depart,
Not in a frenzy
But in serenity,
To their respective jobs
Assigned by God
School children with their satchels and bags
Do not drive
But walk to their second abodes
Breathing the pure, purging air.
The institutions of knowledge
Are ancient and old
With mighty awe-inspiring buildings
Situated amidst the thick woods
Excelling in their roles.
The day smoothly passes by.
As the day bids goodbye
And eve takes its form
The sweet little town
Breaks a new dawn
As a man newly got-up after a chronic illness
The towns-people come to life
The socialites go to the clubs
The devoted to the places of worship
The children play their games
The learned to their studies
Some go fish-feeding
Some for a lake-side stroll
The nature-lover adores the setting sun
That hides behind the hump- backed hill
Oh what a sight it is!
The sky becomes sanguine
The birds chirp again
Calling their children home
God created nature to be adored for its beauty!
The bells toll again
The muezzin sings again
And again the sky is dark
Still you can hear the lark
As darkness comes,
The town glitters again,
The lights of the houses on the hills
Twinkle in the waters of the lake
From the chimneys emanate the smoke
One is again lost in profoundness.
An artist, who paints with words,
Sits up as the night passes by
He hears the owl hoot,
Distant dogs bark,
Once in a while a leopard’s roar
From nearby jungle
Brings him back to the world
With candles burning
And lights switched off
He inhabits the attic
And more than often
Behaves a mad man
He steals a peep out of the window
And is overjoyed and thrilled
Like a new born babe
Just come out of a mother’s womb
He beholds a moon overhead
Its beauty reflected in waters below
Shining silvery white,
The hill opposite with a glow
His heart stirs and something overcomes him
He in the dead of night
On a whim
With a half-burnt candle in the lantern
Ascends to the graveyard uphill,
There he sits near a grave
And is lost to a distant world
Which only few understand.
As morn grows again
He returns home to sleep.
The mountains come in view
With the growing light,
The thick lush woods
With diverse fauna glitter green.
As winter will come there will be heavy snow
The paradisiacal town will go to sleep
Under a blanket white
The dead and living
Both alike will rest in true poise.
With the chill will come the warmth
From the burning hearth.
Soon to ripeness will come the earth
Men will be lost in mirth.
