Village boy Impressions

Fifteen villages share the land And more if you look closely They till it, mould it, build it And call it Buluk, home. The children have dispersed far Many no longer remember it, At least not in the old fond way. They do not know its history They do not speak its language But the old blood runs strong . Its fire burns in their hearts, They want to know; and For them the land tells its tale:   "I have lain here ages uncounted Before ever a foot trod upon my back  Or men spoke with voices, and I have seen and known much  That none now knows or remembers. But I would have you know, that, Once I was a far green country, Without border or path or hamlet. Countless streams fed by steady rains Coursed through my valleys, Filled with innumerable fishes. Spectacular creatures and extinct monsters, Roamed across my woodlands; Gigantic buffalos and mammoth-like elephants, Giant reptiles and the mysterious Sivatherium; The moose-like giraffe named Shiva’s beast. And numerous mega-herbivores t