Stroll to Hilltop
I write, spontaneously the thought descends
The maiden visit to a hill transcends
Neither a suburban look, nor a village mound
Not an ourskirt, neither purlieu
The viscinity beset had its charm
The evening was in lieu
Nearby my dwelling, steep though
The great mount stood, bulky Oh!
I climbed till the breeze was still
I reached the top, looked the zenith
The wind blew, the heavenly abode was painted blue
The winter evening and the hue.
The sky painted and pigmented
Blue on my left, the clouds orange and red
The bright yellow had left streaks and whitened
Although the east looked dead.
On one side stood the rustic look
The material progress on the other stood
Both clearly evident from the top of hill
Not far, but near was it, although the time was so still
On the east was gleeful Sone
The west with barren lands was prone
Patches of green so scanty
With little trees so dainty
The golden sphere kissing the horizon
Charm of halo was lost in the vision
The aureated sky on the west
As the east sank deep
Clouds of saffron crest
The flaxen hue on my left shaded
The floating aura brazened
As if it merely played its role
For me to be present was just part of stroll
The thought struck of the beauty
Of the creator
Who weaved this beautiful splendor
The magnificence just brilliant
With a touch, so delicate, still was radiant
Thinking of the eve, I descended
I was left alone amidst the world
Time had passed as moment
I could only reflect on the time spent
[Rookie Poems (1987-89) - Anup Mukherjee]
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