II Om Namo
Bhagawate Vasudevaya II
The notes of Shepard,
the music of spring;
The hills and
mountains say me many thing;
The lady picking lumbers
for her kitchen, the man hooting at his stallion to carry his belongings;
The adolescent
standing in solitary, eyeing at every vehicle as if he knows the vehicle and
the people in;
The young lassies
turning their back to every vehicles as if hiding their preen beauty to every stranger
passing;
The mountain is lush
green in the spring;
Rocky it looks when summer
peeps in;
The rain shows you the
wild flowers, the exotic plants;
When you look closer,
you shall find the beetles inhabitants;
Deodars stand tall, touching the skies;
They shoot up from
the green mountain ground;
The step farming, the
colourful houses;
Drying corn is found
in every house thatches;
You can find some
healthy mongrels waging their tail;
Jackals of mountain
will fox you to be canine;
On mountains, the
birds are never tired;
They flutter from
peak to peak and hills to hill from morning till dark;
When winter falls,
snow covers the mountains and hills;
Believe me when I
say, heaven will be somewhere here in;
The thick snow rug, chilled
clean fluffy and white;
The cloud touches the
peak as if umbrella planted there in;
Sometimes clouds
cover the hill surface and clad the hills with a grey fur quilt;
So, the mountains
also feel the cold sometime then?
This is something I ask
about mountain now and then.
