I was looking on and on at children playing
Beside a distant gate, while my mind wandered
away, spreading its branches far far into
horizons of some other world-
one day when I drop from the branch their
children will occupy that branch they
will blossom their own flowers. They will bear their
own fruit and enjoy their honey. They too
will drop one day.
Seshendra Sharma as Srikrishna Devaraya 15th century poet – king in a poetry play “Bhuvana Vijayam”
Men, women, and children all the families keep
Coming into the streets and going back into their
Houses. It is all this much, going into the sun
from the shade and going back into the shade
from the sun: like shadows of clouds thrown
on the earth like the dreams of the roads-
all of us leaves, born to some tree.
All of us are flowers blossoming on one branch.
All of us leave everything and depart, giving place
to some others:however,living our own life time-
who can stop this gigantic wheel hurtling across
the void of the universal space.
It emotionalizes man’s centuries, it kicks up
History like dust on the roads. What hand can
Overcome its unconquerable power?
political overlord throw off your loudspeakers .
Listen: even the old tree blossoms new flowers.