.
That night…
when failures banished sleep
to the eves of eyelashes;
when this wounded bod sang blues
all night with darting pain;
Death, escorted by rain,
entered the dark room and said:
“Friend! Look here!
Your grief is a ceaseless torrent!
Life is but a bout of grief… nothing more;
Come! hug me!
Let me anoint your wounds in my embrace!”
Some harsh words
emanated through the wounds:
“This soil of my motherland
was steeped in the blood of my heroes;
where even ploughs were turned
into weapons on occasion,
this is my abode, I am a man that adore people that fight;
Fie! I can’t be timid now as to embrace Death.
I can’t insult the sacrifices of my martyrs.”
.
There was a rumbling of thunder somewhere.
The doors were thrown open with a clatter.
There was neither rain… nor Death.
The room was filled with sudden brilliance.
.
Koduri Vijayakumar.
.
వ్యాఖ్యానించండి