By Devansh Gupta
It’s summer of ‘86
I have the scene frozen in my mind
It somehow gives me some cool
To know I am well beyond the testaments of today
These farms you pride yourself on, can’t grow me a fool
And yet you talk about the call to action.
It’s so embedded in our minds
That we are changing for the better
But the change is a change for us
Such that two sides of the world don’t fuss
On what time they think the sun plans to rise.
The summer of ‘86 feels queer now
Almost as if a dry cleaner had sucked up
The remnants of the pleasant memory
However, the feeling remains quite feathery
Light and tender, this also might not suffice.
A digestion of marshmallow hot chocolate
Am I being too nostalgic here?
Maybe for you, but I can’t help but fear
For the next generation, I fear so much
My mind is heavy, almost as if stuffed with a bag of rice.
I remember how the Llyn-cau used to laugh at its water
How the fields used to undo their golden threads of wheat
Only to find them dangling from the sleeping banyan tree
How the children used to play on the curves of the Oxbow
And those curves were well worth it for an old man to grize.
The end of the 20th century smothers itself with the digital renaissance
And I, a student of the Llyn-cau, could feel the unreasonable fetish grow
Unable to cope, I consulted the Llyn-cau. I walked there too slow
They had quelched my master in his own waters, as they built a town on top
And that is when I decided to say goodbye to all this nonsensical flop.
“Je dis au revoir à la gloire, à la gloire, à la gloire”
“Je dis au revoir à la espoir, à tout l’espoir.”