TO A SCULPTURED IMAGE
K. B. Sitaramayya
In the midst of other woes than ours
You have brought calmness in the past,
Now you play ditties of no tone
To spirits that are alive and awake,
When future generations cry and sigh
your radiant eyes will rain light and joy.
And yet you cannot help stony hearts
That see in you no more than a stone.
You are cold to them that lack the warmth
Towards the splendid form that you are.
No music breaks for them from your flute,
No delight descends for them from your smile.