‘ Swatee Sripada ’ రచనలు

The supremacy or infinite

మార్చి 2015

The supremacy or infinite

To the creator
To the inseparable fondness
To the movement of the universe
Woman is the basis


Mother! O mother
Aren’t you bringing me up pouring life of light in the darkness?

Why nobody could see this trial of yours streaming the resplendency and movement into me?
Why can’t I listen if they comprehend it?
O., not only me in your…
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The village is small

జనవరి 2015

The village is small; its history is great
The ooze of water might be small but the tank is vast
The age of this tree must be measured in lives
The shadows of it never wipes away to the wind

The severity of agony is unknown
to the measurement of square yards
The iron kites flying in the space
Can never see the row of ants
Times move…
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Fourth face


It is too difficult to extract the fourth face out
And ‘keep aside’ is it an easy task
To dig over the strings of pleasurable sadness
Entwined in the layers of brain
Now, it’s the time for me to don the fourth face
And dig myself deep and deep
And I have to fly skillfully
The dragonflies compressed in all the faces
This is a distant way…
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At daybreak


At daybreak every day
I shall turn myself into a verdant banyan;
To witness a half-baked dawn
Still drenched in ocean vapors taken in bit by bit,
And smeared in dust rubbed off from a dream world
Secreting as nectar flowing in an eternal brook.

In the bush, the baby cuckoos
At their peek-a-boos,
Look as if they were crescent’s darker offspring;
Compete they with one anotherపూర్తిగా »



Thought of you
Quickens the heart and makes it run
Throwing baits of our old traces
Lost somewhere in green pastures

A longing of you
Sways the swing of desires
To the edges of pleasant trills of
My heart’s rhythm
Singing a tune in memories

An idea about you
Swells the buds of folded memories
To bloom and drizzles
Experience as a sprinkle of the…
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Germinating a heart is pending


Here only a silent song was knocked down from the edges of the heart
For the roar of storms created amid the breath and breath
The broken affections were scattered
Here only

To give life to life as a life
Sacrificing the dreams of life
Donning head to toe the moments of sparkling fire
To blaze each second as a torch
Sprouted here only
Turning wave lung…
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Our unfortunate land


Our unfortunate land

Our country India, the unfortunate land
‘He is doing this and he makes us do this’
With this idea people of this land
Live sans mightiness sans brightness-this land
Makes the people linger around them like mad dogs
It’s a holy land of currency notes

Yes! These People with hands and legs lymph and blood
Provocation and indignation, honor and virility
Why do they live like wooden toys…
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