Varanasi Ramabrahmam - The Hill-Stream

The flow of my poesy is a hill-stream
Never will she run dry.

Born in the hills of my heart
She rushes, flows
Jumps and plunges,
A waterfall she.

A beauty among itinerant beauties
Tangible as she moves,

She knows not how to order her steps as she travels
Knows not the intricacies of rules and rhymes.
Without a care for embellishment, pomp and show,
She roams in the hills and valleys, a mountain girl.

Flowing swiftly over stones
She produces musical notes sonorous as if she were singing a raga,

Fluttering up and down, high and low,
Like an untrained dancing peacock.

The brushes of artists
Cannot depict her darting hither and thither;
Prosody has no relevance
For her marathon runs.

Her swift movements do not allow her to settle.
My verse is borne of a plain heart
Absorption in Divinity is the goal of her journey.
Silently she joins the waters of the literary Godavari
Without surrendering her own identity.
Kinnerasani! The hill-stream of my poetry.


The Sanskrit Original “Giri Jharee”

Poem and translation by Dr Varanasi Ramabrahmam

Varanasi Ramabrahmam

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