THE VILLAGE OF MY BIRTH
After a long long time, I go to the village of my birth.
O, the hills are the very same hills.
The roads have changed.
The village ends a little further.
Some trees, I knew, are lost to sight.
The faces of men and women furrowed by time have suffered a deep change.
Only the human heart is the very same thing it used to be,
And so is the ever-returning sadness.
O, the hills are the very same hills.
There are new houses
And the streets have taken new courses.
New shops have been opened
Where are my childhood playmates? I see
The eyes of a fresh generation gleaming,
A new consciousness spreading its wings.
Man’s hope is the very same thing it used to be,
And so is the aching sense of joy.
O, the hills are the very same hills.
–UMASHANKAR
JOSHI