To whom hands they may belong
they vie more for working hard all the time,
Whether the hands start soiling
or involve in subscribing gazetted signatures in green ink
or scribble letters on hearts with chalk piece sticks
It is not at all the question now for discussion
To whom the hands may relate
they are straining hard and shedding sweat
to create some thing more productive
If these hands are compared to a sea
the waves weave like fingers
If hands do resemble a sky
the fingers are like raging flames.
Dragging heart from eyes and legs
it will open up a vistas for a civilization,
a nation and a society
His hands dig the soil so deep
and prepare the field for cultivation
His eyes are anxious
to glance at the tender sprouts
The same eyes
may expand tomorrow--bloom ahead--
and revolutionize the concept to protect cropping pattern.
His eyes straightening all glances like flying bevy of birds
converse with the sky like a generation of its sort
and allowing to make the hands work hard
and tries to provide food to all its country men.
Her hands involve in acts of transplantation
and pluck out weeds
and provide water to the mouths of the cultivating soil
She hugs the plants treating them as toddling kids
and try to protect them like a hen caring its eggs
She thus
gives birth by providing germination to millions of seeds
With the tender touch of her hands
even barren lands transform themselves as green fields
On the bund of those cultivated lands
they sit straight like humans toiling in mud stocks
Nothing lies behind them
and no traces of any other thing stand before them
Their Two hands provide food to all the needy
and kindly toddle heads and nurture their wishes comfortably.
______________________________________________________
Rendu chetulu, Koumudi Monthly Telugu Magazine, Feb 2009
Original: Ramaa Chandramuli, Translation: R. Purushothama Rao
Rao Sir, Well said. It has come up very nice. Two hands serving unlimited people and serving human kind. A soothing poem. Best regards.
Dr Pooja G Bhuyar, Bijapur
Mar 11, 2009
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