TAGORE- 150 birth anniversary poem
by Basil Fernando
[May 25, Colombo, Sri Lanka Guardian]
Cry, Tagore, cry.
Your nation knows you not.
Yes, they have ceremonies,
Exhibiting your photos,
Repeating your songs.
Talking about the 150th anniversary,
They may even build
a temple for you, these days.
But your brain,
Your voice,
Your love for the people,
Your vision for humanity,
Your dream for your nation,
That, dear sir, is dead-dead-dead.
Some gouge out the eyes of others.
During day-light people disappear
In darkened limousines.
Blindfolded, they take away people.
Naked, kneeling in mortuary-like places
they recall your verses.
Cry, Tagore, cry.
Your nation knows you not.
Your poems matter not.
You are so soon forgotten.
Yes, truly forgotten.
Dead- Dead- Dead.
(A poem written on the occasion of the 150th anniversary of Rabindranath Tagore)
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