Every wind of my hamlet <br />unto me tells a whispering tale. <br />Every visit to my hamlet <br />unto me is now a pilgrimage. <br /> <br />Her green meads, waters and fields, <br />Those shady lanes, that solemn silence, <br />Her glimmering hurricane lanterns by night, <br />Gentle reveries woken by the silent moonlight. <br /> <br />My cousins, those poignant vacations, <br />My ancestral house, those twilight incantations, <br />The temple, that long whispering stillness, <br />And the stars twinkling in quietness. <br /> <br />From the din of the world <br />As I pass unto these scenes, <br />A solitary chirp is visibly heard, <br />A movement within is deeply felt. <br /> <br />Now, as I take a dip in this river, <br />She embraces me like a fondling mother. <br />And her wavelets in silence ask- <br />‘Where were you my boy all these years? ’<br /><br />Ravi Panamanna<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pilgrimage-2/
