A Lovely Easterly Blows

These are the Ides of March,

A hint of Spring is in the air;

An Easterly from Gorakhpur

Sings “Tyranny’s end is near.”

A scent of flowers from Phulpur

Sweetens, spreads the Easterly;

Araria says “I stand my ground”,

The Republic gives thanks to vox populi.

A million utterances assail

I AM THAT I AM;

Patchwork cunning comes apart

As pent-up miseries breach the dam.

Alas how the human gods forget

That oppressions have a season;

Come the time their fearsome frauds

Crumble to common reason.

Then the little man’s simple posers

Hollow the pretence of majesty,

The concocted robes of pre-eminence

Slip, revealing perfidy.

May the Summer, Autumn, Winter

Give us a perpetual Spring;

May fear and hate be buried deep,

May love and justice reign as king.

Badri Raina

(Courtesy: Caravan Daily)