Therefore Beholding Plays the Farmer Pale

Dried sand eclipsed over the Season’s fall, sullen rhyme sings singer-birds over scale, the storm-dance sprays dust against broken wall, To the hat-worn folks, sorrowed, narrates tale; Done seasonal harvest with plaint-dried tears, With diseased cattle shrunken skin to ribs, With cracked ground, hungry sad visage of fears, With wasted limbs and pot-bellied in cribs. keenly begs graceful charity for age, Promising bags, from next seasons harvest, To plough the ground below the lowered wage, And to lock starving kids to empty breast. Thus rewording he sows the seeds and play, Hoping golden grain’s harvest from his clay. ©Anees Rahman