THE DESERTED VILLAGE
Blank Village like a page,
Two or three streets, a cage;
Blank dust on burning lanes
Barren hills without a crane
Or a tuft of coiling green
Or a stretch of water seen;
Rocks appear like ruined cells
Heaped around like broken shells;
Like a massive poem sans sense
Vital meaning, depth immense;
Black hills without a rill;
Barren soil remained sad and still;
Climate dry to clip our wings
Without lilt of inner springs;
Fraught with boredom, we lie to rest
Sluggishness spreads like a pest;
Time limps too slow on her crutch;
A heart-chilling foggy touch;
Life drags hard through dreary slush
Static like Oxus in wintry hush;
Living like ants in dull rutted ways
Like icy shapes, like monotonous lays.
Dwell there now few cronies old
In a few, old rotten houses cold
Ringed with thorny shrubs and grass
By that way no stranger pass;
Heard no more thrilling rustic lays
Heard no more hymns of gentle grace;
Heard no more damsels anklet bells
Heard no more bleating sounds from dells Heard no more sounds of chirping birds
Heard no more sounds of lowing herds
Gone with changing times all creeds
Lost all values and heroic deeds
Soon to be engrossed by selfish sharks
Smoky stacks and factory stocks Seen there only ruined walls or wood
Shattered statues in a melancholy mood .
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Ref: The Oxus River : Nowadays called as Amou-Darya flows through central Asian
countries like Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Northern border of
Afghanistan before joining the Aral Lake. In winter the upper reaches of the
river remain completely frozen for more than two months.
Note:
Dear Readers, Just as a sequel to my previous poem "The Village Barber" I
have penned this poem after reading Oliver Goldsmith's famous poem with the same title published by him 1770. The poem opens with these thrilling lines:
"Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain
Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain."
and where the poet deplores the depopulation of the English countryside due to fast
urbanization and rapid spread of industrialization.
"Far far away thy children leave the land
Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey
Where wealth accumulates and men decay."
I thought of giving another title to my poem, but could not find another one to suit my
theme; so let me borrow his title as a kind of paying a glowing tribute to this great
Augustan poet who followed the Neo-classic tradition scrupulously and claimed applause
in spite of his slender poetic output.The village was deserted not only by people and other creatures, but also by far more precious core values like culture and tradition.
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4th February, 2015 SOMASESHU GUTALA
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