I wait for the morn...

You can say I wait
For the morn every night
A morn like this...sparrows on wires
Swinging and twittering in delight
And the crystal clear sky
Blue and white...
And a cool sweeping feel
Crows and pigeons having a meeting
Over pieces of bread crumbs and puffed rice...
The rays of light creating shadowy boards on the street
On which woken up and hurrying feet roll the dice...
You can say I dream of the morn
Every night in my sleep
This kind of a dazzling morn
When leaves and trees and hoods of minivans
Parked outside of my residence shine
With colors green, yellow and brown...
And the toddlers break out in shrill cries
Asking their moms
To take them out for a walk
Or play in the park...
When the light as luxurious as gold
Cover the buildings...balconies...lamp posts...shops...faces of people...cars and buses...bikes and cycles...with freshness bold;

I wait the whole long day for a morn like this
When songs from radio with the air mix...
And the whistle from the factory calls
Workers and their supervisors
To hurry to their stations...
When the bazar just opens
And fruits and vegetables and green mangoes and watermelons
Arrive in trucks from distant places
With dew drops all over them
Like blessings of Lord's omnipotence...
A fruitfulness and the fertility cult become so conspicuous...
When water of the river Beas
Usually remains the sweetest and the purest thing...
Every night and day, for the morning I dream...

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