As it reaches the sea
The river overflows the banks:
It is so full, so deep,
That it almost seems to pause;
The little mountain stream
Knows no such fulfillment:
It is a silver line
In the furrows of the great rocks;
It cuts across the boulders
Past meadows yellow with daisies
Splashing and brimming with its joy;
It is so small
And the sea is so far away.
Perhaps reaching the sea is immaterial.
The point is to have a dream:
To yearn for beautiful things
Distant though they be;
Diptesh Ghosh
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