FREEDOM
[MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR]
.
My hare-like innocent wife
has no clothes
to cover modesty!
Her wailing is heard everywhere
at home, and outward
sleeping-awaking!
Before my eyes
come again and again
two holy tears like Ganga-jal1
which on that day
you wiped with your filthy hem!
.
My two little feeble children
like mute toys
have no flesh,
have no blood on faces
have slept, quarrelling,
over a piece of bread,
If you do not believe —
Hear their sobbing, still
incessantly in their sleep!
I take them in arms
and stick to chest
in the violent stroms
and cold rainy nights!
.
They are the pictures of the dreams
of New age!
On the barren land
offshoots germinate slowly-slowly!
.
I celebrate the festival of freedom
to save them!
I lit, in debt,
the lamps of freedom
on the broken balcony of falling house!
On my dry lips
I sing the song of freedom!
Freedom is dear to me
as I have nurtured its garden
by my own hands!
.
But, Hold!
O! Tempted vultures!
If you cast your sight,
On its fruits and flowers —
One more fight for freedom
will begin again!
" "
1 The holy water of the river Ganges [India]
Poetry by M. Bhatnagar
Read 483 times
Written on 2009-08-08 at 16:15
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
FESTIVAL OF FREEDOM
FESTIVAL OF FREEDOM[MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR]
.
My hare-like innocent wife
has no clothes
to cover modesty!
Her wailing is heard everywhere
at home, and outward
sleeping-awaking!
Before my eyes
come again and again
two holy tears like Ganga-jal1
which on that day
you wiped with your filthy hem!
.
My two little feeble children
like mute toys
have no flesh,
have no blood on faces
have slept, quarrelling,
over a piece of bread,
If you do not believe —
Hear their sobbing, still
incessantly in their sleep!
I take them in arms
and stick to chest
in the violent stroms
and cold rainy nights!
.
They are the pictures of the dreams
of New age!
On the barren land
offshoots germinate slowly-slowly!
.
I celebrate the festival of freedom
to save them!
I lit, in debt,
the lamps of freedom
on the broken balcony of falling house!
On my dry lips
I sing the song of freedom!
Freedom is dear to me
as I have nurtured its garden
by my own hands!
.
But, Hold!
O! Tempted vultures!
If you cast your sight,
On its fruits and flowers —
One more fight for freedom
will begin again!
" "
1 The holy water of the river Ganges [India]
Poetry by M. Bhatnagar
Read 483 times
Written on 2009-08-08 at 16:15
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Bob |
| Texts |
 by M. Bhatnagar Latest textsFESTIVAL OF FREEDOMCHALLENGE SUDDENLY POSSIBLE LIFE |
Increase font
Decrease