I'VE poured my WINE

Windermere’s Wordsworth & Lake Zurich

Lake Zurich—in German, Zurichsee—unfolded impressive scenery that, I had not expected, uncurled my mental knots, which the fatigue of 12 hours’ driving had created the last night that I had commenced from Dusseldorf (Germany) to Zurich (Switzerland). On the horizon, I could, out of sheer curiosity, struggle myself for long to find it was Alpine face that gleamed at the distance, with majestic, spectacular and towering mountains—though not towering like the ones we inherit, in the Himalayas or the Karakorum ranges. The place helped me drive off the spleen once I witnessed meadows circling the lake from a number of sides. Canoes, boats, dinghies, cruises enriched the Nature with an additive flavor of Human imagination. At a distance, a cluster of houses abutted on the lake, sharpening a keen sense of repose one could seek. Some spots were filled with people of all ages trying to bathe under the warm sun. Other spots were fraught with tourists. Several men and women enjoyed swimming in the lake. Indeed, the sun was friendly that afternoon. The lake shimmered under the sun like a virgin trembles when her neck is occasionally touched by the male who fiddles with her hair. The clean, serene water of the lake exchanged a smile with me as a gesture of hospitality and an age-old tradition of the Nature Switzerland was bestowed with. I bowed down in humility before burying myself in a reverie. I had fallen into a trance, which took me hundreds of miles away in the land of Wordsworth, Lake District, England. Now Lake District lay before me nude and vivid in shape of Windermere, which with an effortless grace caught me in its lap. Wordsworth from Cockermouth had brought me a gift of diary he had written the last year when I had visited his birth place and roamed around the whole of Lake District not excluding Rydal, Ravenglass, Penrith, Maryport, Lindale, Kirkby Londsdale, Kendel, Egremont, Cockermoth, Carlisle, Askham, Ambleside, Keswich and Coniston. We strolled along the mountainous paths above Windermere Lake reading his diary as to what I did the last summer in his dominion. Clouds began to envelop the heavens, some embracing us out of love and affection. A lavish hospitality extended by them in the similar fashion as Lake Zurich had offered. We deliberated on Nature, exchanged a few poems, had a confab on the issue of language of poetry, smiled, laughed, ran through thick forests and finally plunged into the lake. A heavy thump on the lake water; I was jolted out of my reverie. Now I found myself at Lake Zurich, back in the real view. The sun was stealthily sinking below the horizon, helping the balmy evening wear on. The lake water began to glitter with all the colours of the rainbow. With a multi-coloured heart, I departed for Interlaken.

© M. Syre

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