Tell the Old Lady Wait
Tell the old lady wait,
Tell the boy, tell the b*itch,
O forest’s trees O breeze dear!
Moving by the far, secretly and fair
Along the rocky mount, over the valleys and grove,
Is still-slept sun, the fog’s low:
I too will come, I too will come
And hurriedly join
The stumbling lambs, the buck’s son,
The following foals and their fun.
The brawny hinnies and the hairy mares
I’ll herd and for years watch.
For, my soul’s seeking her abode anew
Like the Marvel’s sky-fallen dew.
And for peace goes there with you,
Purity’s there, beauty there, God’s with you.
the poem is addressed to the nomades moving by
the forestside--in May when they migrate
the poem is the title poem of my debut and only poetry collection
published recently by Alhayat Printographers Srinagar.
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