Here’s Pongal, a festival that celebrates the Sun’s glory, might
Observed well by Indians, its epicentre sure being south
In mainly a state that bears those who employ an old tongue to mouth
Their praises and plaudits to yon great and mighty Sun giving light.
Oh, were the Sun to disappear, could you see the fields that are here,
Abounding with small shrubs, herbs, rice, wheat, veggies and corn?
Its greens fill your mind with tranquillity, peace; they remove fear;
Their yields you relish as if it were a baby, a girl just born.
It is the strength of the Sun that makes this possible, don’t you think?
About time you thanked the august star as it does its job in sync
With the paddy fields that you work
When dark days do oft make you lurk
In the very fields now sighted,
Raising joy with luck ignited.
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This festival brings with it hope, love, contentedness, jouissance, calm
To farmers who work their lands for weeks and months so we all may eat
And satisfy stomachs and tongues we own with recipes quite sweet,
Ensuring thus we have with us what I should call the primal balm.
Oh, were the Sun to disappear, could you taste the food you now wolf,
Sure relishing every bit of it with glee and great merriment?
And could you farm lands that might sure house so many a mad, raging wolf
If our great Sun vanished? Oh, cosmos does know whatsoever we all have meant.
It is the force of the Sun safeguarding every world, I strongly ween;
Thus taking care of each soul that was, will be and has ever been.
So it’s time you hailed the great star
That’s near, seeming though quite too far
On this day observed as Pongal
That’ll drive off darkness and the dull.
DO READ | What if the Sun Vanished Now?
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