Unclothed is my garden,
Alas! Alas!
How did this tragedy come to pass?
Three Philistine vandals,
With cruel intent,
Brought weapons of war
On destruction bent
Supposed to have come
To clear long grass,
They chopped down trees
And ignored the grass.
The araliya trees which I had planted
Which had been growing and flowering
For forty long years,
Which were known far and wide
For their three different colours,
Were brutally felled in my garden here.
The bare grey boundary wall
At me sadly glooms –
"Where is my garb of green aththora
And gold spikes of blooms?"
And every where is destruction seen of a garden where shade and serenity had been.
I am very old staggering in my home with walkers
And slow to take action,
But came out of my shock
To stop further destruction
Of fruitful sapadilla tree,
Majestic madu tree
And delicate "fairy neem" Kohomba tree
And as I sadly see
The wickedness of the vandals three
I think I must plant again for posterity.
B. De Lanerolle,
Nugegoda |
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