Autumn Song

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“The oldest living city in the world”.
I met this lady last evening at Asi Ghat in Varanasi (Benaras), she came there and sat for a while enjoying the sunset on river Ganga.
I was impressed by her beauty, her elegance and dignity even if towards indian standards she seems to come from a very average class.

By chance I was reading those words which are matching this picture very well, this poem is from Sarojini Chattopadhyay (or Sarojini Naidu, as the world knows her) who was born on February 13, 1879 in a Hindu Bengali Brahmin family.

“Autumn Song”
Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
The wild wind blows in a cloud.
Hark to a voice that is calling
To my heart in the voice of the wind:
My heart is weary and sad and alone,
For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, And why should I stay behind?

Sarojini Naidu, the great Indo-Anglian poet, scholar, freedom fighter, feminist, political activist, orator and administrator was the first woman president of the Indian National Congress, and first Indian state governor.

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