The sunset on this small sandy plateau,
Agrestic fellows turn it in a paradise,
And the red rim with its salutary motto,—
Only from dust pearls arise.
Perfect becomes the nature’s artistry,
As nothing changes to time’s hurry,
Except sun amazed at one mystery;—
The lonely perch of a bird on a tree.
Happy homecomings of the birds,
Love where sinews the nests,
Purest friendship returns in herds,
While, the air as if in complete rests.
White shiny shrine under a peepal,
Enshrines faith in that lamp,
Burning perfect straight without flicker,
Perhaps, God, tonight, will lay here camp.
The crane couple passes with a cree.......k,
Echoing conch-shell alike,
Oh, the sacred chant which seek,
Blessings from the lamp; to light the whole night.
How calm the path seems!
No one to beat at its door
To reach the farthest of dreams,
And distance meaningless to this lazy-lore.
Sweet-sour berries amidst prickles,
Smile with their ripening orange colours,
On both sides; pathway’s anklets
Give life to someone during the long hour.
Wheatlings lush green,
Pea’s white flowers get a vegetative fold,
Lone farmer becomes keen
To pass watchful night in the cold.
And the sun tries to see
Inside his small hut,
God, let there be
Too much warmth for the frost’s fret.
That misty wood of far,
Embanking the canal,
Seems too far
For the fading sun’s rays all.
Look, how ascetically that dog walks
Along the lonely path’s solitude!
Away, away from the settlers' barks,
How contently it lives on the farmers’ gratitude!
Farmhouse on that gently uplifted fold,
Geology’s smallest of dome
Shines to the day’s rays old,
Seems as if paradise has got a home.
And when the sun starts
To go below the horizon,
Heavy hearted it parts
Away; where humanity's other half has arisen.
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