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Vadrevu Cinaveerabhadrudu
Varavara Rao
Ismail
Candra Kanneganti
Yadukula Bhushan
Tyagarajas last days
Tyagarajas Social Commentary
Tyagaraja on Music
Tyagarajas Inner Circle
Tyagaraja - the glory of Rama
Tyagaraja - The beauty of Rama
Tyagaraja - alaka lallalADaga
Tyagaraja vinati to Rama
Tyagaraja - mA jAnaki
Annamayya - vinnapAlu
Annamayya - tAnE yeruMgunu
Annamayya - Emoko
Annamayya - brahmamokkaTE
Annamayya - marali marali
kshetrayya's padam - evvaDE
Karunashree - pushpavilaapam
Potana - Dussera
Karunashree - Gandhiji
Satish Chander - Chronicle
Tripuraneni Srinivas
Saavitri - bandipOTlu
allam nArAyaNa - amma
Tilak - dEvuDA rakshinchu nA dEsAnni
raviSankar - kOrika
viSvanAtha
jayaprabha
mahejabeen - aakurAlu kAlam
naa raa - apaswaraalu
kae sivaareDDi - oohalloemci oohalloeki
Sikhamani - muvvala caetikarra
afsar
daaSarathi
Kavita O Kavita
daaSarathi

pratyoosha ghamTika

Dasaradhi Krishnamacaryulu was a scholar in Sanskrit, Telugu, English, and Urdu. He was jailed during the Telengana freedom struggle against the erstwhile Nizam rule. Author of many long poems and poetry collections, he translated Ghalib and Omar Khayyam into Telugu with great sensitivity. He was honored as the poet laurate of AP State. A firm believer in humanity and independence, as evidenced by this poem.

pratyoosha ghaMTika

paaScaatya daeSaalaloe
appuDappuDoo udayaana mroegae
carci gamTa kaadu gaani - idi
ekkaDoe ae daeSaananoe
innaaLLaku innaeLLaku udayaM ayiMdani
rahasyaMgaa -
bhayaM bhayaMgaa
naatoe ceppaDaaniki
rekkalaarcutoo vaccina
udayakaala ghaMTika.
udayaalennoe naSistaayi;
udaya samaya souMdaryam caavadu.
manaM kashTaalu paDi aarjiMcina
mamdaaraM vaMTi svaataMtryaM
ae baambu paadaala kriMdanoe
naligi aNagaari poevaccu.
kaanee, "tammuDoo!
svataMtrataa suMDarata
udaya bhaaminee taruNaaruNa kapoela yugaLi
merasina divya kaaMtivale
SaaSvataMgaa batukutuMdi"
aMTumdi ee
pratyoosha ghaMTika!
ee ghaMTikaa rahasya ramya geetaM
mana bhaava veeNaa taMtrulaku ateetaM!


A rendition in English
The Morning Bell

This is not a church bell
that rings some mornings
in the West - but this
is the bell of a new dawn
that comes
secretly,
fearfully,
with great difficulty,
to tell me that
after all these years,
somewhere, in some country,
there a morning dawned.
Many mornings perish, but
the beauty of dawn does not die.
An independence hard-won,
delicate like a hibiscus flower,
may get crushed under
some bomb or other,
But - "Dear brother!
the beauty of independence,
like the divine radiance emanating
from the dawn-maiden's young glowing face,
will live forever!"
So says
this morning bell.
This bell's secret song of delight
is beyond our heart-strings.
****