They were the best of days, these are the worst ofdays...
The lovely flowers were omnipresent,
They hastened the grinning smiles.
Here worked in the field the peasant,
There the beaver made wooden piles. ||1||
There were the tall and deceiving blades,
And hid in ambush the wild king.
The prey sometimes got His shades,
Or at times, it failed surviving. ||2||
Into the deep and gushy and bubbling ravine,
Which is far below the rocky precipice,
Dived in the Natural Air Force which used to shine,
In front of the sinking orange surface. ||3||
Now in the tropical forest let us dive,
Where the birds sang all day.
Despite the onerous burden to survive,
In their mellow voices, the Gods themselves lay. ||4||
The welkin was light and blue,
It let in the aureate ways.
Everywhere, one saw the verdant hue,
In short, they were the best of days... ||5||
Mayank Sinha (10-E)
