Tempest of time (poems)

-Kondapalli Niharini

Translated by Elanaaga

6.Special Soldier

He is a picture of opulence on the retina;
a sacred figure without many hues.
He won many a million hearts.
Wherever his sweat falls,
there germinates mother’s love, blesses.

In the nights and afternoons when mud blossoms,
at a time when the branches of light bloom,
the shine of his teeth reflects the farm yield
akin to the strings of moonlight falling.
His four months toil appears
in the furrows his plough made.
It may be a rice field or a maize crop;
he may till with a plough or a new tractor.

When sheaves are threshed, winnowed
and abundant grains poured into bags,
his heart dances to the ecstatic beat of joy.
The world tries to cheat him.

He has to escape from many a thing:
the plunder of markets that have methods,
the seeds that have not sprouted, meagre yield, pests.
Natural disasters, spurious pesticides,
merciless brokerage, unstable prices as well.
The glittering tillage makes him run
to the bank from home, torments a lot.
Agriculture is an addiction
to the emaciated farmer!
To hoist the flag of life,
two bulls and a plow take
the avatar of a farmer.
He is the brainchild of the sun,
the own and direct son of the world.
A farmer is an unusual warrior who erects
a fence around his eyes to protect the crop.


(To be continued-)

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