Thursday, August 19, 2010

His Gods, My Gods Comments

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As rain falls softly on the gleaming park trees, I walk on the wet track
And its etched geometrical shapes move endlessly like Nabokov’s trees
Which seem to be going on a pilgrimage to somewhere all the time.
The boy in his story has drawn gods with round eyes looking at the sky
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Jagannath rao Adukuri
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