The sun peeks out <br />From behind the high mountains, <br />Planting little seedling of light. <br />It crushes the yellow sunshine <br />Into small pieces, <br />Making anklets for the mountain tops! <br /> <br />Ankle deep in the wind <br />Flow perfumes, <br />The birds fall asleep. <br />Through a clump of green trees <br />A water channel flows <br />Piping a melody! <br /> <br />Seeing the blue lotus <br />In the mirror- like water <br />The drooping leaves weep. <br />The wind has tied <br />Tiny anklets around its feet, <br />And stamps her heels as she walks! <br /> <br />Raindrops asleep <br />On soft, tender shoots, <br />Are lit by sunbeams. <br />A tiny, golden bird <br />Calls to the travelers <br />With shrill whistles. <br /> <br />In the clear blue sky, <br />A kite circles, <br />Among the rays of light. <br />A flower becomes a drinking station, <br />As it offers droplets of sweet dew <br />To the bees. <br /> <br />A butterfly is at the door - <br />The maulsari spreads its fragrance generously, <br />Like alms to a mendicant! <br />In such a season, <br />In the name of your daughters, <br />Cover my pain <br />With a layer of sighs. <br /> <br />An old, tired ache <br />Plays guessing games, <br />On the paths of my sight. <br />A sweet, moody separation <br />Breaks over me, <br />And eats into my bones. <br /> <br />Unearth a way that I can <br />Meet my beloved, <br />And relieve my longing for a glimpse of her. <br />Bereft of our beloved, <br />We infatuated ones, <br />Are called insane. <br /> <br />There is no one here mother, <br />Whom I can call my own, <br />Who will share my pain. <br />At such a time, without my beloved, <br />I cannot spend a moment <br />In your town. <br /> <br />The sun peeks out <br />From behind the high mountains, <br />Planting little seedling of light. <br />Crushes the yellow sunshine <br />Into small pieces <br />To make anklets for the mountain tops!<br /><br />Shiv Kumar Batalvi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/high-mountains/
