A Dawn Serene

A  dawn in winter, And the sun’s first rays Glowed the stubble-field.   Yonder a hundred herons, Milk white, Basked on a treetop.   From fig leaves Dew sparkled.   Street deserted, And the Bhutan hills,…


No Sickness of the City

It was sunset lone The sky deep orange, and the birds lined For homecoming, and lazily they gleamed.   Thirteen peasants angling, their eyes fixed to baits, And beside half a dozen half-naked children dirtying in…


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