(Not finished as yet, and Notes have to be provided…)
I see only one foot of the mother.
The other a pot tied to
A bronze pot tied to
Hundreds of feet below, below
Is below even the Pabbar.
The king of Sirmaur once
Called his slaves to carry the Mother
To Sirmaur, but failed
In thousands eyes only tears could I see.
As for the foes, blood was free.
The nature wounded and humanity dead.
The ocean of knowledge
The inspiration that sparks
The path it shows to life.
That my beloved ideal Narendranath.
“There was a naughty squirrel.
It was a nutty squirrel.
It was a squeaking squirrel.
It was a speaking squirrel.”
“Was it a quarrelling squirrel?”
“Ah! It was a nutty speaking, naughty squeaking, quarrelling squirrel.”
Zoom – zoom hissed the wind
Puff – puff, I walked on snow.
Mein – mein, with a bleating goat.
Caw – caw greeted us a crow.
Waked up with the nightingales sweet song
Peeping out, I saw spring was in hand.
The various blooming flowers under the sky,
Attracted me by their spectacular colourful band.
With a bag full of gifts and toys
Flying high on the sea-saws,
Come here you girls and boys,
I am the Santa Clause.
Thinking and thinking, O! What has happened?
Can’t even I write a word.
I stand as I fight myself on a field of paper.
In hand with the ever winning sword.
High up in the skies it flies,
Fluttering and fluttering its wings.
In freedom, it seeks the world
As in joy, it sings.