Though mine among the millions,
still I do not own this child.
The core of stone or mist
released this night
to stand along the ramparts
long ago upraised to serve
one cause alone,
demarking truth from void.
For art is higher than the noblest vision.
It is our sustenance,
our nostrum for decay, indeed,
but more!
It is the centrifuge of breathing dust
that found a universe beyond itself,
and then another just inside its own,
in equal whirling splendor...
in tune with sirens
singing in the soul!
~
In the vast wilderness of the marooned rivulet
A silent ripple floats away
Projecting a non-significant shadow that drifts along
Uncontrolled in the river’s sway;
The little rivulet plays with the rocks and the sand
Of that lands mountains and plough
Then gently glides down the plain, from the land
That I belonged to the land I belong now;
Up course it washes my ploughed lands and farms
It quenches the thirst of my loved ones on that side
It rejoices in their mirth, woes in their sorrow
Frivolous, polite and charming like a bride;
It brings me remorse, who drew this line
Through hearts of love, demarking this side and that?
They are not me and I am not them
And no one knows the reason for that;
When I kiss the ripples every morning and night
I see my sweetheart’s eyes going down with shy
The water drops from her question me, I am at loss
Why in this land and what for am I?
Yet tomorrow morning I will lead the charge of my army
Into my mother’s land from my motherland
I’m the Major of this side of the border’s sky
I fight to live and live to fight-
And there’s absolutely no chance of asking why??