I MUST HAVE MY SPRING by JAYAPALAN Chennais outskirts, an expanse of structures, concrete hives. In single file a multitude of people, wandering file folders during the day; in the evening within those files numbers and tasks the working life of a great city. For me a solitary Lankan a late dew in the evening, I look out the window, watch a few trees, listen to a few birds; like these birds, I too lived in my land; after the rains, in full bloom my forests; in Spring my rivers, rubbing against the grass; my seas washing the edge of their garments on the pebbles of the shores; giving me the grains, the fields become grass for grazing; a breeze to soothe our sorrows; my boys and girls unfazed by toil and work embracing life in the shadow of trees, would I live an EXILE having lost all these? My land where the fallen enemies decay and rot, the fallen friends, heroes to be hailed rise in their tombs, how much longer the infamy and shame? How much longer the oppression and death? Again in my land I need my Spring. In the shadow of flowering trees, or in the soil under the grass rifle clad I MUST HAVE MY SPRING. ( Original title is OUR LAND AND A LOVELY SPRING Translated by CHELVA KANAGANAYAKAM)
Posted on: Wed, 27 Nov 2013 13:39:43 +0000
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