Author Archives: Dhanabalakrishnan K

To Neptune

Thou, the abode of omnipotent forces,
Flowing waves freely in the sands,
So mellifluous as playing of lyre,
In the ill-fatted Orpheus’ hands.

Which wave is the winning wave,
In the never-ending race you have;
Thou, racing restless as Danaides’ task,
Bring the shingles with thine steady heave.

Glide straight the eagles aloft high,
With their talons open to catch the crabs,
That crawl on the shore the waves nigh,
Swift as Achilles on his feet is.

Naught thou art before the mysteries,
Hidden deep in our human hearts,
Chaining themselves with Evils infinite,
Chasing to Death the Good of all sorts.

Strange world this is…

Strange world this is to see,
Waking in the witching hours to work,
And dead to the world in the day.
Youths to decide their future destiny,
Walking fast to the Walk-ins,
Decorating themselves as mannequins,
At the entrance of ornamental silk stores.
Women equal men in everything,
Having no distinction to achieve
Greater distinctions and fame,
Seeing gender discrimination never,
But only while gratifying their sex.

Skyscrapers surrounded with slums-
The scar of the civilized society so-called-
Lodging white-skinned at the top.
And the white-minded to live in mob.
Educated minds are obsessed with the thoughts
Of inventing new engines and machines,
To make the life ever more easier,
Forgetting to find out the ways
Of waking the living to live,
That fall flat on the their faces
As verdure-gone and withered autumnal leaves.
And body becomes the best playground
For new diseases to play with each other.

Strange world this is

Strange world this is to see,
Waking in the witching hours to work,
And dead to the world in the day.
Youths to decide their future destiny,
Walking fast to the Walk-ins,
Decorating themselves as mannequins
At the entrance of ornamental silk stores.
Women equal men in everything,
Having no distinction to achieve
Greater distinctions and fame,
Seeing gender discrimination never,
But only while gratifying their sex.

Skyscrapers surrounded with slums-
The scar of the civilized society so-called-
Lodging white-skinned at the top.
And the white-minded to live in mob.
Educated minds are obsessed with the thoughts
Of inventing new engines and machines,
To make the life ever more easier,
Forgetting to find out the ways
of waking the living to live,
that fall flat on the their faces
as verdure-gone and withered autumnal leaves.
And body becomes the best playground
For new diseases to play with each other.

To Neptune

Thou, the abode of omnipotent forces,
Flowing waves freely in the sands,
So mellifluous as playing of lyre,
In the ill-fatted Orpheus’ hands.

Which wave is the winning wave,
In the never-ending race you have;
Racing restless as Danaides’ task,
Fling the pebbles with thine steady heave.

Glide straight the eagles aloft high,
With their talons open to catch the crabs,
That crawl on the shore the waves nigh,
Swift as Achilles on his feet is.

Naught thou art before the mysteries,
Hidden deep in our human hearts,
Chaining themselves with Evils infinite,
Chasing to Death the Good of all sorts.

To Cuckoo

Beauteous to behold is the placid place,
And blessed with bliss is the bird and its race,
That rummages through the ramages of the trees,
To peck the fruits scrumptious in the gentle breeze.

The brook flowing beneath is glowing in gloaming,
Flinging pebbles small slowly on its moving;
And whisper with rustling all through its route,
In the air, the Cuckoo’s poised canorous note.

The well-spring of glee in my weird world,
Winding-down worries from my wearied mind and sad;
Wither you flit, blithe and blissful bird,
Wake I am the ecstatic songs thine to be heard.

No shifts for you to work, ye happy bird,
Nor to meet the evenings ever tired;
No dinner in hungry stomachs to gorge,
Nor have you the peccable minds to forge.

Wake we to work and work, and work till night,
With all our endless efforts and might,
And rest we in beds a little while to make
The tired minds and bodies afresh, Lo! again to wake.

Fly away and bring me into your blissful region,
From the land perilous with farragoes legion;
Or come out to make my dull soul be shone,
From your coppices dark and fully-grown.

Ye, enchorial to the ever ecstatic world,
Take me to live ever in thine joyous shade;
Cos, agonizing is the life here and there,
As the Ten Plagues occurring altogether.

To Mind

Once impeccable you are, filled no filth and be free,
Before the fruit tasted from the forbidden tree;
Where from you imported the evils infinite,
Expelling yourself form Eden, where no fear or fright.

Sink not, O Mind, in the bygone terrible past,
And fear not of the future approaching fast;
Live the Present and realize where you stand,
And lead the life at your own command.

Behold the pismire friends that are born to toil,
Creeping pride on the sand as the sons of the soil;
Cull they the grains from here and there with cheer,
To be pleasant and free from the pluvial fear.

Rest not, reach the height with rigorous might,
Because Failure meets those who fail with life to fight;
Mind no more, O Mind, of the ordeals that swoon,
Cos, the time will come, for them to go wrack and ruin.

When you stand still, and wait in the gate of Fate,
Follow you only your deeds, nor your wife or mate;
Think only of Good and let others to Almighty’s choice,
Lot there are in life to reach and to rejoice.

Fair, fair and fair is the air

Fair, fair and fair is the air,
Filled with the ecstatic songs
Of Skylarks, with the rustling
Of leaves in the breeze
Spiritual and sensual.
Ripples over the pond,
With the blowing of wind.

Selene bade farewell to Apollo,
Screening the world with darkness,
Favouring the bad to wander.
Serenity, disturbed with tweeting
And twittering of birds;
The hooting of owls,
Making the night dreadful.

Sprinkled as the seeds
Are the stars in the Firmament,
Bright, height in the night;
Wandering are the clouds
Gray and gloom-
Without knowing the way
The wind directs.

Dreadful, dreadful, dreadful
Things looked in the dark,
Fading gradual from the sight,
As goodness from the human hearts.
Still are the trees, as observing silence
On the death of Peace.

Here comes…

Here comes the man,
Thinking of himself the God;
Having in his waist
A bloodstained sword.

Blessed by Minerva
Is his mind;
Sagacious in all
Deep and sound.

Ever with Caesar
Has he been seen;
Innumerable are the battles
Has he been.

Never he be ignorant
Of his duties;
Nor fail to praise
The deified deities.

Alone, alone, all alone…

Alone, alone, all alone I am in the world,
Among the people audacious-
Singing elegies to their emotions,
Spending their lives with full of commotions.

Alone, alone, all alone I am in the world,
Among the people acrimonious-
Callous in hearts and callow in thoughts,
Exhilarating and exultant in other’s adversities.

Alone, alone, all alone I am in the world,
Among the people adverse-
As mannequins without emotions,
With money-grubbing modern minds.

Death alone triumphs at the end,
Thinking never of it is the mind.

O Unborn

O Unborn, you are lucky,
Freeing from unceasing adversities;
Illusions are here infinite,
Making our thoughts merely desperate.

Every Present becomes Past,
Leaving our lives with frustrated fights;
To forget the gloomy Past,
By having intoxicated nights.

Troubles we have, as the stars in the sky,
Thank not you; can’t we say you bye;
Alas, our comfort has gone,
Letting us leisurelessly moan.

Loveable Death, lull me to eternal sleep,
Nothing on the Earth, I have to keep.

I am among strange men…

I am among strange men without sympathy,
Disguised with delicate appearance;
Interested to be ignorant
Of Altruism.

I am among strange men without love,
Mingled merely with the mechanical World;
Thinking never of good
Even in their dreams.

I am among strange men without rest,
Ready to rebel against rectitude;
Stepping very fast
In searching of money.

Alas, real here is rare, behold,
And rare reigns the World.

I am lost…

I am lost in the love-lost world,
Where Virtues wedded to Vices;
Starting a journey eternal in the World
Of failures and frustrations fast.

Struggles for the staff of life
Are here successful failures,
And leading a life, like travelling
Through the Daedalus’s labyrinth.

Who holds the key to happiness?
Let it be opened a little while,
Turmoiled more enough
In the trouble-dominated World.

Stop, O Death, the sufferings of mine,
And let me rest in the lap of thine.

Cry of a Heart

O, my beloved, be with me forever,
Let us prove to the world
The ecstasies infinite yet undiscovered.
Come my Love, I will get for you
The heavenly apples from the Hesperides.
Or gift you gathering the sands all
Stained with gold from the Pactolus filled.

O, the Helen of the heart of mine,
Let us bid Daedalus to fashion
The feathered-wings to be fixed,
And wander with clouds the world around,
And make those under the sun dumb-found.
Or grab with Athena’s harness golden
The Pegasus from the Hippocrene and fly.

O, the walking perennial beauty enviable,
Let us order Apollo to speed up
His day chariot to driving it fast;
And get us hurt from the Cupid’s bows
To feel the painful pleasures of nights.
And asking Aurora to be ever at rest
And find we in Love the finest and best.

Hark to me, my honied heart, to the words
Of the willing slave of your winking eyes;
‘Come live with me and be my love’.
We shall dine upon the Idunn’s apples ever
In the elation-filled Elysian fields,
To be ebullient with eternal youth, and find
The dimwitted Tithonus felt jealous-found.

On Dawn

Aurora, rosy-fingered, her chariot drives,
Waking the Light slept at Night-
As in the smoke is fire hidden-
Hectic and heartfelt is the pretty sight.

Welcome the feathereds the Dawn,
With their chirpings sweet as a song,
Wafted gentle through the air fresh,
Resting the leaves verdant among.

Order I those the two kings,
To bring me one as of Canace’s ring,
To meet with the message mysterious
In the songs canorous that they sing.

Sprinkled as pearls spread are the tears dews,
Drenching grass and leaves far and wide;
And swathed is the world in mist shroud,
And ever it is the dead Winter’s pride.

All in vain

Vain are my attempts
In winning her heart;
Making me like a desert,
We as hot and cold there apart.

She, fresh as a flower
Blossomed in the morn,
Liked me to lie
In the life of thorn.

Bidding farewell to my feelings,
Played she like a child;
And letting my thoughts run
As a stampede wild.

Wake, O Love, her mind,
With all your sound, but kind.