The Fountain of Buglova

by Dayran

 

 

 

 

It sprouts from the well of life,

Such waters, so powerful in impact,

That a man cannot on his own,

Come to grasp them without wobbling.

It is the rich soil of the farmer,

The cleverness in the gambler's dice,

The sophistication of a toast of town.

It flows everywhere.... on the Amazon,

Also on the side of the Ganges.

It is delicate, intuitive, responsive,

To the slightest thought, touch and poise,

It travels in gestures, in the glances of eyes,

In the dance of an artist, in the words of poets.

Enigmatic when without voice, stirs silently,

Precocious in thoughts when they are unguided.

And in the mind of quilted virtuoso, sublime,

Not revealing the source from whence it came,

Adding a touch of the mystery and wonder,

Replacing the place of suspicion when fear

Realizes that it is as much make-up on pantomimes,

Then and only then does it bursts its seams ,

And brings its magical touch to all in actions,

In a spray that's like dew upon the earth.

• A mix of the Sankrit term ' Buloka ' meaning earth
  and the English word ' Glory.' The term ' Va ' in Tamil
  means ' to come.'