Like a movie clip, like through a paddy field,

Like a movie clip,
Like running through a paddy field,
me sees a boy running,
Through the hedges and bushes,
Through blooming kash,
me sees this time a boy on run,
his hands stretched,
he is running singing as liberated,
As joy of being merged with the smell of the country,
As a movie clip of high acclaim,
As a run to a dream,
A run eternal,
A run forever young,
A run to reach that whistle,
A run to reach the sky,
A run to reach the inner scape innocent,
A run to reach where he can forever fly,

Like a movie clip
Like a run through the paddy field,
me sees a boy in shorts and bare torso,
Running, like a speed,
Like a joy bursting
Within
Which by the run only he can trim...
Which comes overpouring
Like his smiling tiny face,
Like his bare bodied dress...

A boy,
A movie clip,
A run,
A kash flowery autumnal song
They all
Begin
In me, within...

( Note: on a famous oft interpreted, cited, analysed, criticised, movie clip by Satyajit Ray, as timed by me and me mind, this autumnal morn)

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