TO AJANTA
BY S. R.
DONGERKERY
The
crowded pageant that thy walls unfold
Before
the wondering eye: proud prince, calm sage,
Processions,
armies, leaders, statesmen bold,
And
woman’s loveliness undimmed by age,
Moves
forward in an ever-swelling stream
Of life
before which baffled Time recedes.
Wild
Nature, netted in the magic gleam
Of
pigments, smiles in trees and flowers and meads.
Surprising
patterns from thy ceilings daze
The
upturned eye with varying curve and line:
Here,
mystic bulls transfixed in endless gaze,
There,
swan and lotus linked in one design.
Ajanta,
nameless though thy artists be,
Transcending self, their art survives through thee!