dry moon

butter fly

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SHE- BEGGER


She, who wore ragged clothes
Looks stare at that bread;
In her pale eyes, which are in pits,
There is no light; it is dead.



Yet nobody can notice that
She continues her song of hungry
Even the shopkeeper doesn’t care;
But, at her, he shows his angry.



No one కాన్'t keep their hands in pockets
And కాన్'t keep their looks in her bowl;
But everyone looks at her body
Which seems through the patches; as jackal.



She has a baby on her back
It is skeleton in shape, real;
Who creates such heads , is the God,
Or the society? The mystery, who can reveal.


G. MURALI, M.A

SUMMER

SUMMER


Summer summer summer
Burns all nature;
Quests for shadows
Every animate creature;


The shadows take
Rest under them-selves,
The noise sleeps
In the high shelves;


There is no discourse
Among the leaves, wonder;
With hanging tongues
The dogs restlessly wander;


A stork seeks solemnly
For a small cray-fish;
Calmly stood in the
Deep less pond of slush;


Lo, in mirage on the plain
A bullock cart passes;
From high rocks in to a dale
An ever-wakeful rill flows.



12.6.1993.

G.MURALI M.A.

THE WIND

Oh! Wind Oh! Wind where are you going?
Now and then why are you roaring?
Hastily come down from the hill,
Without your existence the world, nil.


Meekly touch the maid’s rosy tender cheek,
On the huts roofs, with your tongue don’t angrily lick;
What are you whispering in the leaves ear,
Seldom your presence, to us ,very fear;


Why are leaping over the green land?
Do you penetrate into particles of sand?
I like you very much when you are cold,
Then you make me glad gold;


Please pacify the grief of old mother
She lost her only son who is an army soldier;
Mirthly accost the delicate lips of the baby ,
Will you join with the buzz of honey-bee?


Oh! Wind Oh! Wind comedown from the hill,
Without your existence the world nil.

29.11.1991.

G. MURALI. M.A.

IN NATURE

The yellow
rays of the sun
from the Occident
swinging
on the surges.


The sentient
sea-zephyr tardily
tickles us.


The gloaming
merely strolls
around us
glittering the grains
of sand.


The trees and shrubs
stop the respiration
to have a view at us.


When we two
sit on the dune
hand in hand
and seeing each other
with ecstasy
and attachment.


G.MURALI. M.A.
13.11.1994.

WINTER

Winter winter winter
‘t frightens us as a hunter;
Blowing calmly the cold breeze
A bird flapping her wings in a cage.


The men sat around the fire,
The light flashes on the faces, their;
Beside the hut a beldam sat with her grandson
Lo, in blood stains as a wound peeping the sun.


Covered everywhere, lightly the mist
In the cradle a baby closed it’s fist;
The mother singing a lullaby with shiver,
It goes slowly across the rippled river.


Two birds flew-away from their nest,
To get nutriment towards the west;
On the road a beggar shivering with cold
The snow drops on the pasture flashing as gold.


An Emmet wandering for food.
For a while look at the swinging bud.
Over the hill , and over the plain
Leaping the cold wind as a tune.

23.2.1994.

G.MURALI. M.A.

SPRING


Spring spring spring
Looks like a flower everything
The dew falls-down as shower
The bees wander from flower to flower;



Upon the cheeks of curved leaves
Sleeping the blossomed flowers;
Into those flowers for honey
The bees those creeping many;



The full-moon ogling with joy,
From the black smoky cloud, high;
The blooms talking together merrily
With the voice of sweet, hurrily ;



Beneath the infinite azure sky,
Like a garland storks fly;
Beyond the high purple hill,
The firmament lie-down with smile;



The meadows, the fragrant smell,
The swinging trees and the far hills, well;
The sweet songs of cuckoos are fine,
Those are all yield us joy devine.

G.MURALI . 12.3.1992.

పొగమంచు రాత్రి

పొగమంచు రాత్రి



ఆకాశం పొగమంచులా కరిగిపోతోంది

అక్కడక్కడ గూళ్ళలో దీపాలు

మాట్లాడుకుంటున్నాయి

రోడ్లమీది,వీధుల్లోని కబుర్లు ఇళ్ళలోదూరి

వెచ్చటి దుప్పట్ల కింద ముడుచుకు పడుకున్నాయి

రోడ్డుచివరి కుష్టురోగ బిచ్చగాడి

కురుపుల సలుపు మాత్రం చీకటిలో

మెల్లగా కాళ్ళీడ్చుకుంటూ తిరుగుతోంది

అప్పుడప్పుడు కప్పలు చలిచలిగా

బెకబెకలాడుతున్నాయి.

నేనుమాత్రం కిటికి ప్రక్కన,

కళ్ళతో చీకటిని తింటూ -

నా ఆలోచనల సిగరెట్టు పొగలా కరుగుతోంది

నా చూపుల పాదాలు కిటికీ చువ్వలగుండా

నడుచుకుంటూ వెళ్లి రెండు నిలువుల లోతు

చీకటిలో కూరుకు పోయాయి .

చీకటి గడియారం గంటల్లా

కరిగిపోతోంది .

ఎక్కడో దూరంగా వేకువ కోడై కూసింది

తూర్పున వెలుతురు బాకై దూసింది

మనిషి యంత్రం ఆడడం మొదలైంది .

SLEEPLESS NIGHT

SLEEPLESS NIGHT


The azoic crescent moving slowly
In the cloudless black firmament
The crickets making sounds loudly
And I am looking for you every moment.



The still stars whispering
With the heaps of the darkness
The leafless trees calmly sleeping
And I am remembering thy beauties.



My sleepless flaming poor heart
That silently laments and weeps
The drowsy darkness going out
But, I, for thine rose tender lips.



Oh! My dearest sweet honey
Where are you without kindness?
Come and console me my dear,
I am gloating for thy fairy face.

G.MURALI .M.A.

A TRIP OF HIMALAYAS


My volition did fly
To have a view at Himalayas
And smelt the fragrance
Of that beautiful dale.


There the cold zephyr
Wakeful flowing rills
Lovely pine trees
And snow covered high hills.



And melted my heart
In that sweet moonlight
Which reflected on the
Surface of the lakes.



From the frost peaks,
Which flash as gold
By the shiny moonlight,
I saw the yellow streams.

G. MURALI.
05.07.1995.

farewell

nature

RAIN RAIN RAIN

As hanging cord,falling down the rain
On the track loudly roaring the train

Now the black clouds enveloped the sun ,
Children are making paper boats with fun
The nature is not covered with snow,
Lo, in the western sky there is rain bow
Rain bow looks like a painter’s picture,
it is the God’s hues mixture.

As hanging cord , falling down the rain,
On the track loudly roaring the train;

Often lightening flashing in the dark sky,
Leaves-less tree is shaking with cold ‘as I
Over yon mountains flying the fleecy cloud,
In the cattle-shed ruminating the sheep crowd;
The cocoanut leaves pouring the rain drops
Swinging their heads gaily, the crops.


As hanging cord falling down the rain
On the track loudly roaring the train;


On a bough ravens are flapping their wet wings,
The gloomy thatched-huts have cold lungs;
The nature wiping her dust with the rainfall,
In the streets there is no Wight to call;
Indeed the rain is gazing-stock,
Hearing far the barks of dog flock;


As hanging cord, falling down the rain,
On the track loudly roaring the train.

G.MURALI. 20.02.1993. .

MORNING SONG

He turns the dew drops into gold
Hence, the sun is an alchemist;
Nature hides the beauties carefully,
In her closed iron fist.



The melted gold that drizzles
From the edges of the cloud
Lo,the morning song hears
Across the sleepless river, aloud.



The cold breeze that leaps merrily
Over the dwells, over the open fields;
And over the tops of the green trees
Dryness ,to the nature , the sun yields.



The snow drops on the grass
Solemnly chewing the sun rays,
The sun light pervades in nature
And it penetrates in all ways.



30.4.1995.

G.MURALI .M.A.

A FULL MOON DAY


Upon the surges of
Smoky cloud the moon oscillating with joy,
The twinkling stars are
Looking placidly from far and high;

The yon peaks
Flashing as gold by the moon light,
Over the turquoise lake
Flying towards the hill, a bird’s flight;


The moon-light
Playing on the edges of the trees,
My volition went up
To search the trace of stars;



Every blossomed flower
Drinking the moon-light calmly
Now I am on a rock
With the thoughts of my life trolley.



G. MURALI , M.A

BEAUTIFUL DAWN

AN HOUR BEFORE DAWN



I was thinking thee
At an hour before dawn;
Birds flapping their wings;
Stars are looking down.


Thine sweet voice heard
Through-out the cold night;
From the east o’er the trees
Peeping the rosy light.


Lovely looks for me
The breeze brings thine;
Night wiping her darkness
With the light ,it’s fine.


Both in my laughs and cries
And in mine kisses and weeps
Indeed you will be; ‘cause
In thy hand a heaven keeps.

G. MURALI. M.A.

BEAUTY OF NATURE



The resplendent sun was shining high
Herons were flying in azure sky;
Inactive air was delightly blowing,
Active river was gaily flowing.



Flightily surges were calmly moving
On the waves, as a snake leaf-less tree was shaking;
But in that tree there was no movement,
The fleecy clouds walking across the firmament.



The land wore the saree of thick green,
The nature seemed as a picture on the screen
Around the mango tree the creepers were creeping
From the ends the tender buds were peeping.



The flowers were spreading fragrance,
Indeed that landscape was cosmic beauties concurrence,
It’s a floral valley
It’s a scean of pleasant, really.


14.2.1992.
G.MURALI .M.A.