I had a dream - I thought I saw
A vast hoard of human beings
A river of humanity,
Like the River Ganges,
Rushing down the Himalayan Ranges.

Men, women and children,
Every one without a face,
Rushing at a fast pace.
A stream that had neither
Beginning nor end.

Coming from nowhere,
But going some where.

Every one in a hurry,
All in a scurry
To get there before the others,
Like so many rats,
After a single piece
Of cheese.

Among them I saw
An old man,
whose shoulders sagged
Under the heavy burden of years.
His eyes void of sparkle, grey
His clothes tattered,
With dust of ages - grey

A Malayalam translation of Rabindranath Tagore's famous song
"naiva ghumaale priye, rojani ekhonaa baakee" (Don't go to sleep. A little more night is left.)

Kaaminee neeyangurangi poyeetolley
Yaaminee seshamundallo.
Onnu nee nokkuka vaanathil thaarangaL
Minni nilkunnathundallo.

Vaathilkal kuuti prarodikkunna swanam
Kaathil pathippath-ithenthe?
Kaanthe! Kaanthe! ennu kaanthaa-virahithan
Krandippu pakshiyekaanthe.

Aakaasa-madhyathil samkaasa-maananaam
Raakaa-sasaankaneppoley,
Ennute hritthatam thannil ninn-aananam
Ennum viLangunnu baaley.

ENaakshi! aaswadicheetuka nallapol

The evensong of birds,
Ushers in the night.
The end of the fretful, wakeful day
With mournful words.

The same day,
Which with morn did so bravely bloom
Is now ending with doleful gloom.

Gone is the glare and blare-
In their place, a sable silence
In which thoughts can be heard.

With the flight
Of lifegiving light,
Life itself has become light,
Shorn of the burden of strife.

Yet, the birth of the night
Is anything but delight.
Is it because the end of light
Hints the end of life itself ?

Contributed By:
A Chathapuram-ite by birth, C V Krishnamoorthy became a Jamshedpur-ian at the age of 9.