Starting
early on Sunday mornings,
To be on the
outskirts of the city when Nature awakes,
I then travel
through rustic villages, woodland ricefields,
Along paths,
winding byways, fishponds and lakes
And get lost
on purpose.
What’s
wandering safely through a park,
Or travelling
comfortably in a car?
Where no city’s
bustle will annoy my ears,
Then I,
cityman, become a child of Nature,
I enjoy the
song of cicadas, the sounds of water flowing, falling, gurgling,
I hear the
wind in my ears, the trees rustlings, wooing, sighing;
How fragrant
the air;
What’s the
wind and the sky on paper
As to the
wind and sky in Nature?
And warm from
running, the cooler the shade, the fresher the breeze.
What delight
to the senses!
When no adds
and billboards will catch my eye,
But luscious
blimbing, Jambu, Sawo hanging on the trees,
I chanced to
see a pair of squirrels climbing, jumping, chasing past;
What’s a
squirrel in a cage, or preserved in zoological palace of science?
A delightful
scene; a brook, a creek,
A swimming
mother duck with pretty ducklings,
Or washing, bathing
nymphs and beauties.
And roam as
in the Garden of Eden,
While thirst
is turning water into nectar and wine.
Then all the
way back home I travel
Through hell
of blazing sun, aching feet, parching thirst;
When busses as
a paradise of comfort
Offer you a
heavenly ride; imagine just for twohundred,
Back home,
where my treasures are.
Ah, the
heavenly drink after the hellish journey;
Taking off my
shoes, I tread as on a heavenly floor;
I take a
shower, how heavenly refreshing that bath;
I breathe in
heavenly air, sup on heavenly food
And sleep as
on a cloud in heaven.
Then by next
day, I’m back on earth.
1980
This is my book. You can read it.
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