Wanderlust
A multitude of voices have
perished singing that passionate song.
For what passion fruit, O’ traveler,
doth thy tongue long?
From what blessed land hath
thou come and what is thy name?
This land is so rotten that
it will put rotting to shame.
Utter the name of the
beloved which thy soul doth seek.
Thou art the only beloved
mortal ever to walk on this arenaceous clique
What is to be bought and
what is to be sold?
This land hath never heard
even the whisper of gold.
Cursed air and damned sand art
the only things it doth behold.
Name the Lordly Majesty thou
serve
Who hath commissioned thee
unto this desolate turf
Beseech Her Majesty to abort
thy duty and avoid the curse
This lodging serveth a
destiny worse than that of a serf
What thou covet upon this
unfortunate land?
What art thou looking for in
this vicious sand?
This is a dicey affair; I
desire thee know the stake
“BEAUTY” was the only word
the eccentric traveler thus spake.
- SALIL BHAT
