Echoes Of Morality Poem by HARVENDRA SINGH

Some dead are alive,
Some alive are dead,
And some are thoughtless.
Some graves under the tree of morality
Nurture its roots,
And some pages, in black and white,
Written by the dead, foster this tree.

Secluded are the surroundings of honesty,
And miles of deserted plains of faith.
Yonder, here and there, a few streams of life rise
From the cooled, ancient mountains of books.
One can take shelter only in the shade of a few eucalyptus,
Trees of true and life-giving knowledge,
That have already drawn much
From the earth of old memories.

No flower of sympathy hails the way,
No solace from the chirping beings of present age.
Things that bark louder drink from the gutter of modernity
To quench their thirst.

Only random gusts blow to fuel their weary spirits,
As they fly to taste fresh fruits,
To satisfy their hunger—
Those who sing to hail the dawn.