Heaven Will Be Somewhere Here In

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.