A KING AND A POET

 

B. INDIRA KUMARI

 

            One was born in a mansion

            And in a cottage another one.

            Both grew in places of their own

            Having between no relation.

            One tasted the life’s smoothness

            The other the adversity’s sweetness.

            One by hereditary became a king

            The other as good poet did sing.

            Glows with gems the king’s palace

            In simplicity smiles the poet’s residence.

            The king’s tone commands each and everyone

            But from poet’s pen verses flow on and on.

            They did know each other

            But none for either did care.

            For, more each one did in life

            Respect each one’s dear self.

            In fear do, the people honour the king.

            But freedom and love the poet’s glory sing.

            To serve the king only the paid are bound,

            But service comes to poet, from all around

            The king’s sword rains the blood

            But the poet’s pen begets beauty’s world.

            This whole world the king may reign

            But the poet can rule even the Divine.

            With himself dies the king’s name

            But rises to heights the poet’s fame.

            Only as a statue the king stands

            But in the people’s memory the poet ever lives.

 

            (Translated by the author from Telugu)

 

 

Back