While driving down to Cambridge, we stopped for lunch in the calm and quiet village of Granchester...it was so beautiful, green, fresh, unpolluted...out of this world...
In GranchesterClean fresh air
Quiet, as in a church
Few houses with thatched roofs,
Clustered together, hugging narrow lanes,
Amongst the green slopes, merging into each other,
For miles together in the span of the eye
Not a building in sight
on the horizon
Only oaks and beeches silhouetted
Against the calm blue Cambridge Shire sky-
There is a small village of Granchester.
If you sit in the courtyard of the inn,
With the poetic name of Rupert Brooke,
And sip a pint of country ale
Enjoying the English countryside:
Quietude, the companion of solitude,
Seeps in and calms your soul...
And you think, how beautiful is the world...
'Till a plane passes overhead.
And wakes you from your pensive mood
And reminds you
That half the world is at war...
That in a country, with a beauty OF its own,
With its own culture of thousands of years-
A civilization oldest on Earth-
Is being destroyed every day:
That all people hear are gunshots and bomb-blasts,
That sky is red with the weeping sun
That cries every day before it sets,
That the air has the stench of gunpowder and blood.
Children and women don't sleep for days,
Disease and starvation is the order of the day...
Calm and peace hasn't come their way...
And you can't believe that this country,
Where people love to lie and slumber
Under the calm blue sky,
Can wage a war so unjust against
its own mankind, not so far away
In another part of the earth...
Author: Zoya Zaidi
Cambridge, 14th August 2006
Copyright ©: Zoya Zaidi
Note: This is third of 'London Series'.
Photo: Maedows of Granchester UK
Poetry by Zoya Zaidi
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Written on 2006-09-11 at 04:42
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