TAGORE- 150 birth anniversary poem

by Basil Fernando
[May 25, Colombo, Sri Lanka Guardian]

Cry, Tagore, cry.

Your nation knows you not.
Yes, they have ceremonies,

Exhibiting your photos,

Repeating your songs.

Talking about the 150th anniversary,

They may even build

a temple for you, these days.
But your brain,

Your voice,

Your love for the people,

Your vision for humanity,

Your dream for your nation,

That, dear sir, is dead-dead-dead.
Some gouge out the eyes of others.

During day-light people disappear

In darkened limousines.

Blindfolded, they take away people.

Naked, kneeling in mortuary-like places

they recall your verses.

Cry, Tagore, cry.

Your nation knows you not.

Your poems matter not.

You are so soon forgotten.

Yes, truly forgotten.

Dead- Dead- Dead. 

(A poem written on the occasion of the 150th anniversary of Rabindranath Tagore)

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