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sâmbătă, 13 aprilie 2013



I played my childhood in your arms,
Open and agile too,
To hold my glowing childhood;
In the fresh rivers of your bosom
You carried me away,
To the glistening ocean of my youth;
Under your clear shiny nights,
I dreamt of becoming your star.
From the holy dust of your land
I sprouted, you are 
My breath was just taken from.
You are my vase, full of treasures,
Precious memories and the moments
Too very dear to my soul,
I am the flower of your field;
The fiber of your ever smiling heart.

In your lap, I swung
All the seasons of the SKy!

In winter, my feet so apt
To touch the glistening waters,
Moving freely in the lined fields,
The naughty sweet throw
Of palm held cold waters
on the passing by friends.

The spring warm sun, melting 
The night frozen dews
Flirting with the bloomed
Garden petals to offer the fragrant brew.
Chasing the flying butterfies,
Sipping the nectar, and upon the soft fingers
Seeking the all spring colours,
The fire bees catch in the evening twilight,
And in the closed palms, holding 
The little flying stars,

Under the cool shades of that old oak tree,
A common memory of ancestors,
Where the People shared
Those hot summer noons 
The friends agrouping to go
The deep furrows of irrigation water 
And bathing till the falling shadows.

Oh the monsoon rains,
The most wished and long awaited!
Upon a rain thirsty noon,
Carrying water barters
And throwing on the walkers
In sheer belief that rain would fall.
Under the joy pelting clouds
The friends rolling in groups,
Pushing against the flowing chilly wind drifts.
Then entering into the fields
To disturb the white lotus
Busy in a hot affair with the cool air.

The autumn nights, 
With mild Temperature;
The full yellow watchful moon
And chattering, lying on the top,
Weaving childish moony dreams,

The memories linger;
And smiles rest long 
Upon the lips of soul,
When those moments 
Come sneakily and tap at the door
Of what is gone but ever Present.

Hanook Gohar.

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