Poem
P.P. Ramachandran
The Horn
It kept on moaning.No one took notice,
In the festival revelry.
The poor creature
Had no idea
Its curious, curved
Body was an instrument
Of music and its wail
A musical performance.
Still, its master
Came running,
As a shepherd to the lost
One of the herd.
A horned God
With no human touch.
© Translation: 2009, E.V. Ramakrishnan
THE HORN
© 2004, P.P. Ramachandran
From: Randay Murichathu
Publisher: Current Books, Thrissur
From: Randay Murichathu
Publisher: Current Books, Thrissur
Poems
Poems of P.P. Ramachandran
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The Horn
It kept on moaning.No one took notice,
In the festival revelry.
The poor creature
Had no idea
Its curious, curved
Body was an instrument
Of music and its wail
A musical performance.
Still, its master
Came running,
As a shepherd to the lost
One of the herd.
A horned God
With no human touch.
© 2009, E.V. Ramakrishnan
From: Randay Murichathu
From: Randay Murichathu
The Horn
It kept on moaning.No one took notice,
In the festival revelry.
The poor creature
Had no idea
Its curious, curved
Body was an instrument
Of music and its wail
A musical performance.
Still, its master
Came running,
As a shepherd to the lost
One of the herd.
A horned God
With no human touch.
© 2009, E.V. Ramakrishnan
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