Post by MIRIAM JACOB on Nov 22, 2007 0:51:48 GMT -5
MY MOTHERLAND
Like fireflies the lamps of
the old fisherman flickered.
They went early morning,
waving goodbye to their dear ones,
to look for their daily meals.
The coral stone houses
in between the shores,
were left to the mercy of rain,
and the rain was not kind.
All the stone houses were withered,
what a pitiful sight.
I stood there gazing
at the beautiful place.
It was once a paradise.
Tourists thronged the place,
and the economy was thriving.
But alas, all its pomp
and glory faded away.
Oh, My Motherland, I love you,
I will come back to the land
where I was born.
This land is my resting place, my abode.
My bare feet first touched this soil.
I took the sand of this place
to make sand castles.
I made mud houses with this soil.
No, you shouldn't perish,
You, My Motherland must flourish,
I want to be buried in this soil,
And that is my Last Wish.
(C) ALEYAMMA JACOB
Like fireflies the lamps of
the old fisherman flickered.
They went early morning,
waving goodbye to their dear ones,
to look for their daily meals.
The coral stone houses
in between the shores,
were left to the mercy of rain,
and the rain was not kind.
All the stone houses were withered,
what a pitiful sight.
I stood there gazing
at the beautiful place.
It was once a paradise.
Tourists thronged the place,
and the economy was thriving.
But alas, all its pomp
and glory faded away.
Oh, My Motherland, I love you,
I will come back to the land
where I was born.
This land is my resting place, my abode.
My bare feet first touched this soil.
I took the sand of this place
to make sand castles.
I made mud houses with this soil.
No, you shouldn't perish,
You, My Motherland must flourish,
I want to be buried in this soil,
And that is my Last Wish.
(C) ALEYAMMA JACOB