Dervish
While walking his way of seasons-months collected
His tiny fortune; it’s her gift only, their kinship
Like a lotus leaf immersed yet sober.
Every moment, every day/ night nourished on five feeds,
who lost his way, a son of soil broadcasts his fortune in
a jungle, in a desert, on a mirage of sensibility
with untiring hope walks the dervish disowned by destiny,
is forever in bloom the flame of the forest of the wild.
¬¬¬¬
Remigius de Souza
07.03.2007
(Translated from his original in Marathi by the author)
Author's poetry homepage:
http://www.poetsindia.com/poet/Remigius+de+Souza
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