I read a poem in Gujarati from,
A popular monthly magazine,
It was a story of a dead tree,
A dry and frightening one,
In a jungle.
Then, I wrote one in the same,
Language on green and lively tree,
And sent to them,
But was not published.
Often I wonder what people,
Really want we cannot fathom,
Often I am surmised what they say,
I cannot understand.
In a dry tree I was looking for,
A green and wet message,
And in a green tree they were,
Looking for a stark one.
I thought both have been and are,
Very useful to our lives,
One gives shade and cover under Sun,
And the other gives houses and fuel.
Alas, human life when gone,
Gives agony and lingering memories.
*****
