Yearning of a Wretched
breathe my soul already dead.
Never felt at home my own, this motherland.
The golden wheat, ne’er felt myself fed,
This heart ne’er for this land, burn’d
Hath ne’er turned footfalls sound pleased,
From wandering foreign land, feet greased.
But no lyric to mark my trifles.
Despite wealth, as I wish to claim,
Forfeited living, dying every moment
Unwept, unsung me, turned into darkened crescent.
Sprung I, at last, on soul’s cornering.
Message went from this heart : for this land, yearning
Upon finally return’d being honored in alien,
Lunar eclipse long bide, now a society doyen.
Idea or Expression of the “Yearning of a Wretched Soul” : ---
It was difficult to believe that the poet could be so spiritually dead as
to had no love for his motherland, and to feel no pride and pleasure on
taking so rich and healthy grains as food and to feel no thrill when he
used to return to his native after traveling in distant foreign lands. He
had attained high rank and great wealth beyond not only the dreams of
avarice but also him ; but these great advantages never inspired any poet
or lyricist to pen a few lines about him. Life was like dying every moment
for him. None have wept for him. But at last, the eclipse of his moon of
life has been weathered away and he heard a yearning in his soul for his
motherland. And the poet found his name among the society stalwarts. Just
as the fool moon reappears gradually after a spell of eclipse with all its
beauty and grandeur.
Disclaimer: The thoughts expressed in the
poem are purely those of the Contributing poet.