A small boat hacks furiously through a liquid road
Swiftly sailing, waves on waves in twos are divided at the vessel’s head.
Beyond the shaggy margin of the deep blue,
Rows on rows of stooping mangroves come to view;
Swaying in queues, in dusk light, palm trees with twigs beckons at the weary wanderer;
Charming hues and brilliant coast line, a man of leisure, may retain forever!
With shadows combined, million dim rays through horizon’s dust appear weak.
Filtered by the raging clouds, as then, golden dart are still hazy and bleak.
Why does the lone wild fowl, against the faded sun’s beams, as if searching for its reflection,
In to the restless waters twitter, and from a thin bough, hang wings with emotions?
The rustling winds wafts in new fragrances;
Refreshed, I unanchore and row on in a leisurely pace.
How many, in years of absence,
Have the crimson sun, over these sands and foams, waxed and waned in vain?
Hacked by sharp Wrinkles in my weary face,
I fear my friends of old may not my looks recognize, who remain.
Two times three decades of grievous separation,
Thousand typhoons and myriads tsunamis may not hamper my home bound determination,
The nostalgia in my sorrow ridden bones, to no one, I’ll have it told.
Now so near the harbor, I wonder how many are still alive of my noble generation.