The Native Girl
Be’dew’d, those two cheeks,
Those dimples moving up n down
Like that squirrel lurking in the green creeks,
Appearing like the glows up, after sundown.
Fluttering that flailing body,
Inherited tonight like rhapsody —
A heart incapable of watching, and receiving
Is to wander free with no meaning,
Forlorn and shipwreck’d
Finds no happiness unblighted ;
Thirsty sorrow at its side
Bestrides like wintry flood, bide
Her good-bye, counterfeited glee
Try to throttle the breath of the sea.
The shoots and the stems never reach
To hear the sound, of those who teach.
The travails howsoe’ver, the sky
Can never really come, to kiss her bye.
Wooing — oh no ! failed.
Mar the land of the dread !
Wanting to be with her,
My heart makes every obstacles bar
Like spasm – or, scene leftover
Dance and dance her shadows over.
Life now — a spray of yew !
Treated her likes with deadly dew.
Uprise who struck wild surmise
Left them high and dry, no surprise —
Those no mean preachers
No matter how blithe the throttle rings,
Ah ! Mingled dark and grey flings
Among the children of the Aryans.
Yonder ! slaps of the mandarins.
In mazes of cold and heat,
Her soul was yearning for a little beat
Of that drum in the woods,
When she has no time for broods.
Waiting still, for a new planet
Tears of thoughtful gratitude in the garet.
Archaically obscure — no suitable synonyms.
Coaxing the life with subsisted hymns.
Only substitutes, us contemptible creatures
These all suitable souls, Aryan vultures.
Can’t ever take the place of another;
Just as ratiocination, for argument further.
We don’t want ‘change’ simply for;
For, the ‘sake’ of change is graft galore
Will there be a time?
When Natives like her will also sing a rhyme,
Of the Right, And Good and Infinite —
Thine own, no dispute, with absolute,
Not only in this vast ‘land of the three seas’,
‘Tis too, strike at civilization’s knees.
Contributed By: Dibyendu Ghosal, highly published writer [email protected]