Where are the Rivers Gone?

Ponder highest wisdom, clear and deep The reverent eyes must see our coloured faces Floating on sliver flowing in rhythm The flashing water of life Where my own people live All my ancestors stay awake with its dark night. I’ve know rivers going home Ancient, hand holders I bathed in the Euphrates when I was young I heard the singing of the Nile I took my love to the Ganges I rushed to Beas when she declined my advances Dulung lulled me to a painless sleep. Gushing through ancient forests, old temples and hard mud rocks My path is drawn by the reckless wind My fury turns wild, dejected when I beat the rocks in the Subarnarekha; another poem will mean nothing more. I never shut amid the flow of the damp soul lingering, drifting yet running with a broken heart.