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Poem of the Sunflower |
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The golden hair Streaming down her face As fair as the lion in his lair Or the garlands of flowers round the winner of a race. As yellow as the one it follows Stopping only when the day draws to a close. She could not move Her eyes from the sight Lest she should lose That beam of light. She smiled through the day And at night wiped her tears away. The Great God moving ignores Her gentle devotion As through the sky he soars And the sun continues its revolution. Yet she does not falter Her praise she will not alter. Slowly, her legs plant in the ground Yet it makes no difference to her At last her idol she has found With any difficulties she will bear. Yet still, he does not spy The devoted maiden, while flying by. Her lovely golden tresses Become petals of flowers But the dazzling glory of the petals do not lessen Condemned to live forever. And yet, to this very day, The flower, to the sun’s rotation, does sway. And now the once fair face Has become brown due to The sun, her eyes followed through space And the sky that is so blue. And her daughter and grand-daughters also Follow the sun, and in early morning cry tears of woe. For still the Driver of the Chariot of the Sun Engrossed in his task does not see The flowers that follow his majestic run Some things will not change; they will always be. Thus is this story of the poor maiden’s despair Of her unheeded devotion of the Sun flying in air. |
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This page was last updated on February 01, 2005 by the KIWW Webmaster. |