With extreme joy
from a small hole
she jumps up like a toy
with a delightful goal.
She gushes out in force
falling on the land
runs away from the source
singing and dancing with the band
Crossing the villages and towns
and the cities in a stretch
she slows down gradually with a frown
weakening through like a wretch.
The melody of her song
turns a sob as she runs
carrying with her the throng
of waste and dirt and thorns.
You may wonder she be.
You and I know her well.
She is the river whom we see.
Oh! she flows through hell.
Meenas Poems 