Слободкина Ольга
From the poem "The Indian Miracle"

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  • © Copyright Слободкина Ольга (olga_slobodkina@mail.ru)
  • Обновлено: 01/03/2015. 2k. Статистика.
  • Поэма: Поэзия
  • Иллюстрации/приложения: 1 штук.

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                                       *        *         *
    
    
    
    
    I'm on board the plane
     in comparative serenity
      on my way to Bombay,
       now called Mumbai
        for the reasons 
          I can't understand...
    
    Below - stretches of land,
      unpopulated,
       just mountains and lakes.
    
    From above
      these lakes look like lizards
        or hard corals of whimsical forms
         or some other strange creatures -
          not like normal lakes, round or oval,
           not at all.
    
    And the rivers remind me of young sakuras
      with flexible branches,
        their trunks being almost like branches,
          as thin as the branches...
    
    How can I describe India?
     So many words have been said
      about its striking contrasts,
       of its utmost poverty
        and overwhelming riches,
         about its temples,
          some of which
           are carved of marble
            where each column,
             each little thing
              is meant to symbolize Infinity...
    
    But... 
     has anyone said about the langoors monkeys
      who sit on the stone bridge
       hugging their babies
        on the way from Udaipur to Jodpur?
    
    About the banyan and neem trees,
      their precious qualities,
       or about the wild peacocks
        who come in dozens with their gutteral cries
         not long before the sunset
          and make themselves at home
          in rich estates,
           the heritage property
            turned into posh hotels?
    
    Has anyone said about the soft air
     and a mild flower fragrance
      in the Udaipur Palace 
        where the bogan villia 
         flowers like blossoming oleanders?
    
    About the glittering waters of the lake 
      when you sit on the Sun Set Terrace
       looking at the Lake Palace,
        which pretends to be a white ship
         ready to put up its anchor,
          but will never do so?
    
    I'm sure 
     a lot has been said
      about the politeness and cordiality
       of the servants in the Palace.
    
    But 
     has anyone said
      about the joyful hospitable spirit
        of its Shriji,
         of his royal kindness and generousity
          as well as
           about his inexhaustible sense of humour?
    
    
    
    
    March 16, 2007
    
    

  • © Copyright Слободкина Ольга (olga_slobodkina@mail.ru)
  • Обновлено: 01/03/2015. 2k. Статистика.
  • Поэма: Поэзия

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