The Feed

Holding a grain a millet in her beak

The mother sparrow has come to feed.

The young ones are so tiny and small

From head to toe they are beaks

When they cry.

One grain to be fed to the ten young ones

To whom the mother sparrow should feed?

Conjoining beak with beak

With whom should she solace?

Fissuring the atom,

You have learnt to weep and wail in a loud tone,

Splitting the grain,

You have learnt to set life on foot

Chould you split the grain?

One grain to be fed to the young ones.

Here the poet depicts the love of a mother bird for her young ones who are very small and only ha few days old. They are in the nest. The mother sparrow goes out and brings a grain of millet in her beak to feed them. They are ten in number.

We are worthless men, either puppets or dolls. We try to rest upon each other and our mind is filled with no wisdom. We are not wise men. We live in dreams. We try t speak to each other but convey nothing. All our speech is no more than the voices made by the grass or the rats. We seem to have no form and no colour. We seem to have strength, but it is only the appearance of strength, otherwise we are weak and without motion. Those who have already departed from this life do not know if we are frustrated or not. We seem to be only puppets made of straw.