The Moon

Dr. Kondal Rao Velchala

The moon is stuck up pitiably

In the sky of the China Bazaar.

Oh ! What a seasaw flow of people below

Cumulating accumulating milieu !

Men, machines, motor cars, all making their way

Pushing and rushing,

Rubbing their shoulders to one another.

No one looks to you, O, Moon !

No one is also keen even to steal a glance at you.

They wont taste the honey sweet badam-kheer

That you so freely offer an ample, not even a sample.

These, who call themselves the urbane, the civilized

They can only hear the sounds of the currency coins,

Nothing more, nothing else with their ears and hearts !

O, Moon ! In what a miserable state are you placed ?

No one feels sorry for it

Not even as little as one may

at a rupee lost from his pocket on a way side.

You are not at all really the one

So much sought after here, no, not at all,

It is clear, so clear.

Our eyes flush only at the electric – lights

At the naked dances of the blindening ad-lights.

We are only thrilled, amazed at those

Quick fleeting neon lights

Their criss-crossing blink-brights.

But of what use are you to us O, unfortunate Moon !

Who can’t change your form as quickly as they do

Can’t be as sleek

Not at any rate before a week ?

However much we may pray and seek.

Everyone considers your promise of landing late, too late

To attract the eyes.

Beware ! You can’t compete

With the cut-throat competition of the market here.

And even if you do, you will surely go bankrupt,

Be sure.

You are certainly of no use here, O, Moon ! No use.

Even the charm of your circular form

Won’t tempt us much, so much.

Our tongues go wet only at the sight of the powder-puffed faces, the sophisticated lasses

To catch them with the hungry fists of our eyes

Like the leeches.

O, Moon ! There can never be an alliance

Between you

Who look like a rustic belle lost her way into the “Spencer’s”.

and the China Bazar

Sure, I am quite sure.