Thank You

It’s not a “thank you”,
But a “thank you”;
It’s not a word,
But a harmless sword;
It’s not a voice,
But a feeling nice;
For understanding me,
An act of holding me;
For drinking my tears,
Saying it sweet without fears;
Although sour,
Slippery and added more n more;
It’s a slow moving arrow,
Neither fast nor furious fellow;
It’s an organ-ic fluid,
Flowing through the lip-py lucid;
The way,
I say;
Slips through the ears,
Caresses your heart’s and near;
Increasing your lub dubs,
Decreasing your dub lubs;
Once again,
With no loss and full gain;
I say,
In my way;
A thank you,
Oh! I love you;
But remember,
Oh! Dear;
It’s not a “thank you”,
But a “thank you”.

The Night's Charm

One moon one star,

Sometime close sometime far;

Moon- full half quarter,

Star- twinkling sparking laughter;

Moonless night,

Still some light;

Blinking plane crosses the orion,

Like on a black paper a marking crayon;

The milky way,

The galactic lay;

The hemispherical tent,

Above the earth's vent;

Some pulsars,

Some quasars;

A red giant-one star,

And white dwarf another star;

Burning meteorites,

Flashing asteroids;

Making wishes,

Converting into ashes;

Hope on,

So on,

The night's charm,

Enjoying it is no harm.

The Last Second

I saw the last second pausing,
In the blinking of her eyes,
I saw the last second stopping,
In falling of tears of small size,

It was the last second,
Time stopped due to that,
It was the end,
Tears dried, her eyes closed and mine opened after that,

Minute was incomplete without the last second,
The clock remained dull,
Hour was incomplete without the last second,
Both the clock hands remained lull,

I saw 59 seconds passing,
Trying to convert into minute,
She embraced me in those second’s crossings,
But left me in the last second’s cut;

It was sleep not death,
But so similar as 1 minute to 60 second,
It was laughter not wrath,
But the brain dies in both for the last second,

I asked the last second,
Why do you make minute and hour?
She answered in a second,
It’s you, not me, who make life happy or sour.

Soon......

Soon the winters will be over,
When the snow will disappear;
Soon the spring will come,
With new leaves flowers plum;

The colored rose,
Sometimes red, pink and so’s;
Little anger, little baby blues,
In her green stem of bodily views;

Soon the springs will be over,
And the summers will appear;
The sun and the tilt of the earth,
Will lead into a heating effect worth;

The petals of the rose,
Will glow more in rows;
The sepals of the rose,
Will entangle with those;

Soon the summers will be over,
And the breezy rain will rover;
Drop by drop,
One on a lop;

The fragrance of the rose,
Mixed with wet earths, everyone knows;
Flowing delicately in nostrils,
The eye color changes to rosy thrills;

Soon the summers will be over,
And the winter will cover;
Cool to cold,
Soon too bold;

The calmness of the rose,
Whitish with snow covered she arose;
Rose- a flower for every season,
Rose- a fairy in every reason.

The Rhyme

Last night,
In less light;
I was composing a rhyme,
In an erratic and sleepy hymn;

In heads I thought,
In dreams just bought,
A trance of silver cascade,
With a golden façade;

A baby boy smiling,
And a mother clasping;
A baby doll crying,
And a father tears eyeing;

The whole earth,
Shrunk in a globe still worth;
The dome of priceless diamonds,
Surrounded by trees of almonds;

A brother and sister,
Holding hands together,
Playing, fighting, plucking hairs,
Love, Anger, sorry hearing ears;

A tree of gold,
A plant too old;
The poor, the rich,
The saint, the witch;

The death cry and the birth laughter,
Something before, many things after;
The trees, the fruits,
The stem, the roots;

A home of hundred rooms,
Doors, windows and forlorn roofs;
One person per one room,
Hundred bodies in a gloom;

Rejected, dejected, sarcastic souls,
Lurking, murky, mournful fools;
A sparrow in nest,
A humming bird flying from east to west;

Such things,
Much things,
Made a rhyme,
In an erratic and sleepy hymn.

Village December

In the blanket of black n long nights,
Far away in the lands away from sights;
The morning opens his eyes,
In foggy December days of shorter size;

The smoke from morning foods,
With the smell of burning woods;
The fog sneaking from the pond,
With altered shapes they abscond;

School kids with navy blue sweater,
Rubbing their hands with each other;
Waiting for the winter vacation,
To migrate to a warmer location;

The street children smoke smoky cigars,
With imaginary nicotine standing on altars;
They have shrunk due to cold,
The cruel winds which strike them bold;

The hiding Sun makes everything helly,
The dogs hid their head in their belly;
The cats mew as if famished of heat,
Blinking their eyes for summers retreat;

The small streams diverting into a bigger one,
The ugly cry of the railway engine;
The boats are empty and the tracks bear fewer loads,
The migrated birds still thinking to leave the boards;

The cuckoo bird has sore throat,
Her voice has fallen in crow’s moat;
She waits for a gurgle of warmness,
To sing in the original song of oneness;

In this whole, something is opposite,
To the cold’s bank balance deposit;
The hand pump making murky noises,
But pumping warm water of best choices;

The village road ends up after some meters,
You will find a way if you cross the fog in sweaters;
The washed clothes hang in wetness,
They fall asleep in the wait of dryness;

The sheep have their wools shaved,
Their wools converted to sweater paved;
They can’t pay price for their own sweater,
Hiding in a corner of farm in cold winter;

In this whole stopped system,
The Sun appears at random;
With his gleaming warming thin rays,
He smiles as a small boy in his own ways;

The system starts n starts working,
The wet n cold now lurking;
Waiting for the Sun to hide n night to come,
In the blanket of black and cold n numb.

My Beloved

One day on blue morning,
With an examiner mischief she asked-
“Admire your beloved”
With more mischief,
I started,
Oh! What to say about her,
She is like a winter’s fur,
And hotter than May’s stir,
She receded,
I proceeded,
God! She has more beauty,
Just like Januarys tweedy,
She started showing her ego’s size,
Unable to hide her foiling eyes,
I continued,
And her interest discontinued;
Oh! She is a blooming flower,
Of spring seasoning shower,
She is a cloud over the sun,
Shady, wady in the rainy season,
With more admiration,
I walked ahead with more assumption,
Oh! She is the lilies delicate scent,
An incarnation of virgin fairy, I meant,
Now it was the limit,
I being a bit timid,
I ended up the game,
When she asked her name,
I answered,
Dear, it’s your soul,
It’s humble, pure with no foul,
And that is my beloved,
My answer was a boffo with lift,
She gave me a clinching gift,
Oh! My beloved, I love you, she said,
And the examinee passed with 1st div, honors added.

Why Seed is Born?

I have seen a seed,
Lying on the road with no cast n creed;
I remember once I threw it-tiny, dry and alone,
From its fruit-its father, mother lost n gone;

The air flows over it,
But it faces the air with a wit;
At last the air throws it on the soil,
I thought the seed will now spoil;

The dust accumulated,
The seed lost its lusture and looks humiliated;
I feel sorry for the seed,
Its prettiness lost with a speed;

I have seen raining like cats and dogs,
The seed is lost with the jumping frogs;
I think the life of seed is over,
It has now become a sea rover;

Thinking I walk and my shoes are worn,
I think about why seed is born;
One week passes by-then two then three,
I think, think and search my questions key;

I have seen a small plant there,
To my surprise where the seed was lost, I swear;
I look at its tiny structure,
It is beautiful, pretty with lots of lusture;

It grows day by day to year by year,
It gains height layer by layer;
It bears hundred fruits and thousand seeds,
I unplug daily one fruit for my needs;

But now I never throw the seed anywhere,
I preserve it for future endeavor;
I can see its father- the gymnosperm,
And its mother- the angiosperm;

I thank to God-Oh! God you are great,
You can make possible everything and create;
You can keep food stored in a seed for years n millions,
A food for the entire humanity so huge in trillions.

Goddess of Gold

One day, while traveling,
Something thinking and unraveling;
I came across a goddess statue,
Embossed in gold with a virtue;

The goddess was surrounded by a crowd,
Piercing with prices of bidding loud;
From thousands, lacs and millions,
The bids went high to alarming billions;

The goddess stood still,
Holding her unimaginative will;
Hundred of fingers pointed her,
Her sanity, vanity churned with stir;

Finally the highest fingers win,
Throwing others in a shameless bin;
With a silent voice she was sold,
The person left with goddess of gold;

Later one day in the news,
I read an article with a muse;
The golden goddess has changed its place,
A theft occurred and it was lost in space;

I thought and wondered,
A lot and pondered;
Who with the goddess was?
Was he a thief or a priest of flaws?

A goddess worth billion of dollars,
Unable to save her from the eventual robbers;
Robbers of identity and robbers of belief;
Robbers of reality and robbers of relief.

She Misses....

Standing often, beautifully she sings,
Sonic, rhythmic like flapping wings;
Sitting lonely, sometimes she sobs,
Painful, pitiful, unseen from mobs;

Zigzag lights hitting her eyes and fly,
Looting, plundering her visionary sigh;
Still she sings among the harsh noise,
Hiding, sliding her melancholy voice;

Green bangles and some are red,
Trodden, stolen from her hands of wed;
She watches them rolling her hands,
With lub-dub heart on shaking lands;

Bounded in an area-she swirls around,
Making, waking her childhood sound;
The toys are lost and the dolls are killed,
With darkness, farness the future filled;

The song itself tells her story,
Suppressed, depressed without any glory;
Telling about her that she misses her eyes,
Her mission, vision-one could see with sighs;

In the song, one could see her fate lines,
The sound, wound of the falling coins;
In the rounded and filled bowl,

Girl like pearl, in sea, without soul.

Your Eyes

Off course……Your eyes,
Really...really big in size;
Like one of a baby dear,
Running far- n- then coming near;

Sometimes hazel,
So cool- n- well;
Many times blue,
My sight sticks like glue;

The flowing air,
Layer-by-layer;
Vibrating your eyelids,
Up-n- down jumping like kids;

The moon-n-star,
In your eyes deep-n-far;
The planets-n-sun,
And the universal stun;

In the darkness of night,
Your eyes filling mine with light;
In my moment less sadness,
Your eyes making it moment of happiness;

Mine and…..Your eyes off course,
Will meet at a desired source;
The magical effect of your blinking eyes,
And its radiant light would have darkness sufficed.

Allergen

A shattered flower,
Down the tower;
With sad petals on the road,
Criss- crossing vehicles with heavy load;

Reflecting sadness of the boy,
Considering his heart like a toy;
By a girl of short anger,
Hung her calmness on the hanger;

The flower cried,
Why it was crushed and fried;
Between the girl and the boy,
In their own battle of troy;

A small girl on the way,
Picked the flower in one say;
Brought it to her nose,
And smelled the flower with little doze;

“Aaa-choo”-she sneezed,
The good mood of the girl ceased;
“My dear you are an allergen”-she said
And at the same place the flower was laid.

Green Carpet

The green carpet,
of greenish grasses,
Due to sun’s sweat,
or cloud masses.

The greenish form of color green,
Grasses like fine velvet! Oh dear,
Holding the nature’s queen,
Fine dew crystal clear,

Small goats run,
With long ears,
Jumping randomly with fun,
Without any fears,

Wish I could be them,
Rolling with a roll,
Enjoying the color green’s gem,
With the kindred soul.

The Love Cage

“Oh! Mother I love you”,
“Oh! Father I love you”;
The first love of early stage,
The innocent love of bird in a cage;

Hour by hour, the love ripen,
From sweet to sweetest, in a hyphen;
Still the first love of medium stage,
The maturing love of bird in open cage;

“Oh! Darling I love you”,
“Oh! Sweetheart I love you”;
The first love of grown stage,
The matured love of no cage;

Day by day, the love gets old,
Sweetly sourly that is gold;
The last love of grown stage,
The matured love of birdless open cage;

“Oh! Son I love you”,
“Oh! Daughter I love you”;
The last love of the last stage,
The oldest love of birdless cage.

Walking With Closed Eyes

One day I walked,
On a straight n long lonely road;
To myself I just talked,
With closed eyes I just rode;

A bright darkness I was engulfed in,
But not that bright to support the vision;
A short term blindness due sin,
A fear of diverting without precision;

The coolest air of that time,
Unfolded on my face;
The lavish banyan tree to climb,
On its own branches like lace;

The half moon lit mid night,
Not that half but somewhat three fourth;
The sound of surroundings in the yellow light,
The stars some far and some closer in north;

On my left there were silver birches,
And on the right the eucalyptus touching the sky;
Further I found a divine lady in my searches,
Lost in the white marble and somewhat shy;

I opened my closed eyes,
To see the extent of imaginative reality;
And existence of those truthful sighs,
Through the mind’s vitality;

I found everything same,
Except that white marbled lady;
She was no where with her flame,
I searched the whole place under shady;

Today also, when I close my eyes,
And walk on a road-straight and lonely;
I can feel, I can see that white sculptor-my prize,
And I continue to walk with closed eyes-only.

We Are Friends

I saw him,
Running on the road;
Bare Footed,
Unbounded hairs,
Rolling a cycle’s rim,
With a wooden stick.
The rim rolled faster,
He was left behind,
On the road-lonely, distressed, waiting,
For someone to hold the moving rim,
Just like his life-rolling, moving, and roving.
I looked,
With my hidden efforts,
With a love in my eyes,
For that boy, watching,
Looking at me with hopeful eyes,
Asking to hold him, in the times,
Times of happiness and sadness,
Times of pain and relief,
I ran and stopped the rim,
With a scratch in my palms,
Quite red, but not that red,
Quite harsh, but not that harsh,
I saw a beautiful smile on his face,
Not quite beautiful, but very beautiful,
Not for some time, but for a longer one,
He came near me,
With thanks in his eyes and so on his lips,
And in the voice, he said-Thanks friend,
He saw my palms, still some red,
He felt the scratches, still some harsh,
And regretted with a white scintillating,
Flowing with reasons,
A drop of tear, just for me,
Just so fresh, like the morning dew,
He rubbed on the scratches,
And tried to remove them,
From my palms, But,
I held his hands with mine,
And shaking them,
I said, Don’t Worry dear,
We are Friends.

Dreams

Oh! Baby,
I see a dream in your sleepy eyes,
Your little lips opening and closing,
The cute hands rubbing the eyes,

Oh! Sleep please come,
For my small one,
She waits, she longs,
For you, for your depth,
For the sweet little dream.

A sweet dream for my sweetie,
More sweeter than honey,
Away from sours, away from dark,
But also not bright,
Or she could open the eyes,
And lose the dream, away from sleep.

Oh! Daddy,
My eyes are closed,
But I still see you,
In my sleeps, in my dreams,
Playing with you, giggling,
Running at the butterflies,
On my small legs, still on the bed,
How, I don’t know.

Oh! Daddy,
Do you see the same dream?
Hugging, loving and smiling,
Making me jump from your arms,
In the soft bed of air,
The air in dreams,
Free from reality,
Still so fresh, still so calm.

Oh! Baby,
It’s a lovely dream,
It’s free from human actions,
On the earth, on the environment,
On the animals and on the humans,
Just see, don’t tell,
The only thing remaining,
This is pure, which is true,
Although an illusion.

Oh! Sleep,
Please don’t go,
From my baby’s eyes,
Let her sleep, let her dream,
Let her play, let her desire,
Let her wish, let it come true,
Happy in sleeps, happy in her dreams.

Oh! Baby,
You continue,
I will join you soon,
And play with you, run with you,
Sleeping on beds,
Sharing the same dream,
Sleeping-dreaming-sleeping.

Just See! Just Say! Don’t Do

Just see! Those faint eyes,
And in them the hidden sighs;
Not straight but a curved bend,
Her body-black and dark without mend;

Just ready to fall,
One more step and stall;
She tries to head,
Towards unknown destiny ahead;

Hands hanging with no motion,
Hairs with white and black notion;
Her sari unready to cover,
The broken body like tree without flower;

The belly stuck inside and concave,
Smoke mixed with heat and windy rave;
Touched her body and pushed her ahead,
On the footpath with dust fed;

Just see! Me myself and my eyes,
Covered with spectacles of undulated lies;
Sitting straight with comfort in car,
Far away from the road’s war;

Just ready to fall,
One teary drop from my eyes and stall;
My driver waits for the green signal,
I worry if that woman is rational;

My hands kept on my thighs,
Covered by Raymond pant of fitting size;
My hairs black adjusted with gel,
And my fit body and all’s well;

My belly bulged outside and convex,
In the AC car with a symbol of X;
The cool air caresses my face,
My shoes shining with tightened lace;

Just See! Don’t feel that miserable woman’s life,
The Mother, the daughter, the sister and the wife;
Just See! With tears and say something,
Don’t do; just pass with no human linking.

My Lost Rose

My lost rose,
In the gardens of love,
I searched her in my dreams,
Her one part was inside me, my heart,
And the other lost, displaced,
From its place,
In the space.

I am a lonely boy,
With a white rose in my hands,
Searching for a pink one,
Roaming from plant to plant,
Flower to flower,
Asking the birds,
The cuckoos don’t answer,
They just sing,
The song of love,
The song of desires.

I am a sad boy,
With no option,
With only one way,
I head towards it,
The path of rosy thorns,
Which protect the rose,
From being touched.

I walk on the thorns, like needles,
They pierce in me, my heart,
The red droplets, pure red,
Very precious, like ruby,
They fall on the white rose,
Which lay in my hands.

The white rose becomes a red one,
The child in me is somewhat happy,
To loose his blood,
To give it to the rose, still not pinkish.

The red turned white rose cries,
For the child,
For child’s love for the pink rose,
The tears dilute the red color,
The red color turns to pink.

The red rose becomes a pink one,
Pink- as desired by me, the child,
Pink- the color of childish love,
Pink- the color of my lost rose.

Sparrows

Some mist,
With twist;
That morning I remember,
Opening-closing,
Regular- blinking;
Eyes in November;

The sunny softy ray some yellow,
Touching my eyes frequently and mellow;
Twitter Twitter like soft arrow,
Hoping-Nearing,
Fearing-Faring;
Gaming-couple of lovely sparrow;

They fed,
To beaks open spread;
With water, food n all,
In the nest,
With some zest;
The two baby sparrows-small;

The day came,
When the babies turned lame;
The fan killed both,
Mother sparrow-died,
Father sparrow-died;
Babies cried-with stopped growth;

I climbed the tree,
With some water of sea;
For the baby sparrows,
But- they drank their tear,
The only thing they ate was air;
And they died in their own sorrows;

Days passed,
December surpassed;
January came,
One more year added,
Years on years flooded;
But sparrows never changed their game;

Today also, when there is some mist,
With some twist;
I put off the fan-killing arrow,
I see their relatives-Opening-closing, regular- blinking,
I see their relatives-Hoping-Nearing, fearing-faring;
I see them gaming-couple of lovely sparrow.

Iam Dying.....

Oh! Ye people,
Of the earth;
Listen from steeple,
My crying-is it any worth?

In the corner,
I lie, with scared eyes;
Like a mourner,
Of myself- with no hidden lies;

I run, I slip,
I again rise;
I cry due whip,
Is this-my ego’s size?

I open one eye, I see left,
Followed by the other and then right;
I see myself vanishing, I see the theft,
The inside is black with covering white;

Someone has tied,
Me with emotional rope;
Please stop, please listen-I never lied,
I am dying without any hope;

Oh! Ye people,
Of the earth;
Just peep from steeple,
Inside you- find the dearth;

I am missing,
From you, and yours;
Friends and foes- left just hissing,
Like snake, ready for biting sours;

Some of you just see,
And some just say,
But yours heart is like-wee;
I don’t know where I lay;

The black dots,
Of sin;
Have covered you lots,

And I lie in a transparent bin;

I was, I am, but don’t know,
If I will or not;
In the future of fake glow,
I am dying between past and future’s knot;

Oh! Ye people,
Of the earth;
Get down from steeple,
And come on earth;

Please think,
About me, about my past;
Just see, don’t blink;
About you and yours future’s last;

The generations yet to come,
Yet to smile or cry- it’s your wish;
Shall they read the history of honesty-some,
Or they will say- was truth some stinking fish;

The manipulation of my self into changed version,
The bitter truth of sweet lies;
Like leaving the original, just following the diversion,
Just illuming wideness, but narrow in size;

Oh! Ye people-find me, where Iam lying,
Oh! Ye people-find yourself, where do you lie;
Oh! Ye people-save me, Iam dying,
Oh! Ye people-save yourself, or you will die.

Lonely Window

The lonely window,
With open door;
Left, untouched, stood there like a widow,
With some iron bars and nothing more;

The wind passes through it,
Making noises, carrying dust;
The iron bar don’t resist the hit,
It degrades, weakens with the rust;

The broken doors hit themselves with nothing good,
They repent on the past;
The past-when they were fresh piece of wood,
Covered by an untainted, painting of contrast;

There is no one,
Not a single living creature;
It’s barren, dull, left undone,
It cries, without tears on its left feature;

In the past, mother used to call her son,
By wake voice through that window;
Her only smiling son,
Who ran in the streets with his shadow;

In the past, the daughter waited for her father,
With teary moments in her eyes, hand on the bars;
Rolling her palms, gazing at street end farther,
Thinking, trying, to achieve her favorite stars;

In the past, the wife stood there for her companion,
With blushed cheeks, blossom lips, hazel eyes;
Searching for her friend with white stallion,
Coming, riding, for her, with an ear ring of small size;

The past was past-it went away,
The present is surviving;
The window is puffy- night and day,
Thinking, weeping, a lot starving;

But, the future is yet to come,
For which many are worried;
And so the window –mum,
It hopes, the past will come back hurried;

The streets will again be busy,
Full with ecstasies;
Full of sweet smelling daisy,
With giggling, smiling, tender fancies;

The bars of the window will again be a colorful toy,
Like a rainbow, like a seven colored chain;
Each color having different taste of happiness and joy,
The new window would not be lonely again.

A Fallen Leaf

A fallen Leaf,
On my palms;
Due to earth’s heave,
Before spring, when winter calms;

I am under the tree,
A lonely boy;
Soiled hands in earth’s sea,
Planting the leafy toy;

Where is the water?
For the tender leaf;
I cry, and shatter,
The tears fall with relief;

I see the sun rise,
Tears flowing in the xylem;
From the lacrimation of eyes,
Salt replaces Sucrose in phloem;

I leave the place,
I leave the tiny leaf lonely;
In such a big space,
The tree and the leaf only;

Time passes-it appears,
How I don’t know;
Days, months to years,
I forgot the fallen leaf a time ago;

I am old,
The glasses don’t support my eye;
I go to the same place to unfold,
The reality, the existence of leaf, with sigh;

There’s no more leaf there,
I think it has become tree now days;
But confusion still prevails in air,
About the truth of leafy tree which lays,

A fruit hits my head and ran,
Rolled on the ground and stopped,
For me- the hungry old man,
I eat the fruit which the tree dropped;


I see, I feel the taste,
Of million tears dropped, and its essence;
From my eyes, his eyes, her eyes- not a waste,
Its sour, its salty, its not ripe-the fruit of adolescence;

I get the proof,
I get the price of my tears;
A fallen leaf - converting in tree like roof,
A fallen leaf- providing shelter for olden dears.

What Makes a Man

On the road, in confusion,
Walking with me in some delusion;
My son asked, “What makes a man”,
And he hit the can lying in the lane;

The can moved,
The question roved;
I further walked thinking,
Searching any hint or some linking;

“Dad, is it the care which he give,
To his offspring and support him to live;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it his love and affection,
Towards other without any rejection;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it his sacrifice,
For all to rejoice;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it his hands for helping,
For the sufferers who are yelping;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it his offerings to God,
And bowing his head to almighty Lord;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it his kindness and generosity,
And stopping the inhuman atrocity;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

The moving can collided to the front wall,
It changed direction & reverted back to us all;
My son continued to ask with changed question,
And I still thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it the powerful muscles,
Which he uses them to wrestle;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it the ugly fights,
Which he does in the nights;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it the fast racing of cars,
Which he hits on the others with a scar;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it the kill,
Which he makes with his will;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it the abusing,
Which he uses without anything losing;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

“Dad, is it the damn violence,
With which he breaks the calm silence;
Please answer my question”,
He asked & I thought about a man’s profession;

It was not the question of man or woman,
But the basics of the thematic human;
How could I answer them to my child?
About the question which turned me wild.

I thought about a man’s longing power,
Which he is in search for years, days and hour;
I thought about a man’s longing glory,
Which we have studied in the past history;

I thought about a man’s jealousy and hatred,
Which he cultivates for others without regret;
I thought about a man’s love for others,
Which he nurtures for his human brothers;

The can was still vibrating between two walls,
The questions were changing their stalls;
I walked, just thought about the question,
I sighed, and just thought about a man’s profession.

Don't Break....Just Listen The Silence

I am hazy,
And crazy,
I seldom bite;
I staunch,
In ranch,
Like dozy stride;
I pulsate,
And reverberate,
In windy moist;
I rumble,
With grumble,
At tritely height;
I am narrow,
Like an arrow,
With dashing strike;
I kill,
With will,
Like bloody fight;
I howl,
Like an owl,
In scary night;
I travel,
And unravel,
With illusive might;
I am before birth,
And after death,
With continuing life;
I am silent,
Sometime violent,
In the noisy sight;
Don’t dare,
To break the layer,
Just listen the silence tonight.

Festival of Colours

The yellow green and red,
And many others spread;
The water mixed with colors,
As that of natural flowers;

Pichkaris of different shapes,
In hands of kids and face like apes;
Running behind each other,
Shouting, screaming and nothing to bother;

See the faces-multi colored,
In our country- multi cultured;
A festival of- multi name,
Different colors but all mean the same.

Angel

(..... Jaise aankhon ki debiya mein neendiya,

Aur neendiya mein meetha sa sapna;

Aur sapne mein mil jaye farishta sa koi........)

It was a junction of noon and evening,
And I was with my friends busy in playing;
The noise of the crowd was at its peak,
And we were happy as it was the end of the week;

Far from us, I saw a man,
Sitting on the rock of big span;
He just watched the playing kids,
Shaking his legs in a rhythmic rids;

Gradually the time started drifting,
The night and evening started rifting;
One by one my friends left for home,
I was left alone with the man of shining chrome;

I also thought to leave the place,
But the snow fall covered everything in space;
I fell down due to wind and cold,
I lost control and my senses rolled;

I don’t remember how much I lay,
I opened my eyes with hope in a ray;
He sat beside me on the same rock,
I could see the snow around me in flock;

There was no snow on the rock around a diameter,
It was all warm and I was in a sweater;
I smiled at him and asked if he was an angel in disguise,
He said yes, shaking his head with turban of turquoise;

“In any problem just pray God to send me to you,
And then you just call-Come Angel Come from sky blue”;
He said, and lost in the shimmering sky,
It all seemed to me as an intricate staggering lie;

But it was true and I was full of joy,
Whenever I called him, he helped the troubled boy;
With this help from God, my life became smooth,
Full of happiness and too much soothe;

One day when I was flying my kite,
It was trapped in the electric wires at site;
I called my angel again and again,
I searched for him in the lonely lane;

I was not able to see him for hours,
I was in thirst of benevolent showers;
Finally in the evening he came to me,
"I was completing an important work of God, you see";

Said he, and rescued my flying plane,
I walked with him on the road main;
“My dear, in your dreams you can see me,
But in real life I am an invisible tree;

It’s all the matter of hard work and devotion,
Your angel lies within your mind’s ocean”;
Said he, and flew across the gigantic mountains,
Erasing my heart’s darkest stains;

I woke up and still it was snowing,
Around me everything was glowing;
I stood upright and headed for my home,
With, words of an angel of shining chrome.

Ink

Yes, it’s the ink,
How dark is it, let me think;
Its color is red blue black or green,
Flowing with serenity, the marking queen;
The students fill it in the pen,
They write with it here n then;
The impression is true with splendid writing,
The letters form words with a special linking;
It flows smoothly on paper with passion,
It’s pure, humble and gentle in fashion;
Its utmost beautiful in the color pink,
Yes, it’s the ink, it’s the ink.

The Purple Paper

(Before reading the poetry I would like the readers to make note of some things.When you read the poetry try to compare the contrast in the beginning and in the end of the poetry, specifically 1st & 10th stanza and 4th & 11th stanza. Also just imagine the situation intensely in your mind so that you can carve the real picture out of it)
(After reading the poetry do answer one question that- what was written inside the purple paper?)


Many years back, when the day was fine,
I saw an old man walking in line;
His face reflected the setting sun,
The glory traveled and made me stun;

The dry leaves turned green as he walked,
The cool breeze touched him and sparked;
His silent voice touched my ears,
And the moving moment stopped till years;

He handed over me a purple paper,
Folded in layers with a flowery taper;
The paper reflected his splendid face,
Full of light in the transparent space;

“Unfold the paper when you are in trouble,
But it should be extreme and cost you rouble”;
He said, and smiled with a grace,
The sun set and he walked ahead without a trace;

I kept the paper gently in a book,
Without having a bit of its inside look;
Who was the man, I thought at first,
But I forgot him in the time’s lust;

Later one night, I found myself in worries,
Troubles surrounded me like branch of trees;
I ran to open the purple paper,
To withdraw the troubles like a vapor;

But then I was reminded of the troubles intensity,
Was it the least or of the highest density;
I kept back the paper at its place,
I preserved it for a denser menace;

Like this I surpassed many troubles,
Considering it less than the upcoming doubles;
Layer by layer the present became past,
And I grew older when the time moved fast;

And then, when I was left with my life’s last days,
I unfolded the paper to read what it says;
After reading it I decided what to do,
I realized the script written in it was true;

In my last year of age, when one day was fine,
I saw a young boy walking in spline;
His face reflected the rising sun,
The joy rolled with a higher spun;

I handed over him the purple paper,
And repeated the words of the olden wrapper;
He accepted the paper with the grace,
He stood there on his shoes with the open lace;

These people will die but their purple-ness will prevail,
This paper will perish but its poetry will still sail;
So, let’s not unfold so early, the purple paper,
It’s nothing in it but –“The Purple Paper”

I or Me?

When I view it from one angle,
It seems so simple;
But confusions in me just mingle,
When there’s a change in the angle.

Is it the body or the soul?
Or both mixed all alone;
I think during the stroll,
I am the body or the soul.

The answer gives rise to the questions,
Blank pages full all again;
Me waiting for suggestions,
To give answers, to the rising questions.

The heart beats in me faster,
The loneliness haunts me quietly;
Could be there any disaster,
Oh! God, the time could pass faster;

Sometimes it pains for micro seconds,
And Iam alive for some more time;
It is me who just pretends;
Was it I or me, lets think for some more seconds.

Change

There lies a conflicted silence,
This screams in the preceding violence;
I lie in the dark away from light,
Unseen untouched from the savage fight;

The earthen man has turned to stone,
Who barks and breaks innocent’s bone;
I remain hidden behind the highest cliff,
Far from the cries but lonely and just too stiff;

The water reflects the reddish color,
This sends a smell intolerable ever;
I sleep safely in the house boat,
Unnoticed from the sunken eyes afloat;

The earth has stopped absorbing water,
As it is filled with bloody disaster;
I just fly in the crafty vehicle,
Leaving down the things in the vicious cycle;

Every thing has been damaged over,
Is there anyone to resolve it ever?
No one else but I have to come in front,
Peeping from the window would not confront;

Whosoever stands at the back?
Let’s come in front and leave the rack;
Without our efforts the branch will remain lean,
Without the sunlight the leaves will not turn green.

The Night Before Dawn

Lo! The night hath come,
The darkness thou can’t overcome;
The Sun is far from us,
With the moon lit in fuss;

Stars smile at ye infinity,
Placed in the sky with dignity;
Alas! Ye can’t cross the heavenly border,
Its human limit, even thou try harder;

The silent silence grows there,
Thou can’t hear is it where?
It crouches over you and dangling over,
The sparking thunder sends a quiver;

The tone of air is nay fair,
It flows over you layer by layer;
Cometh with it the damp flavor,
Rosen over the shady plant of clover;

The tiptop sound hummed with rider,
Ye get feared with sudden snider;
Hath he come with several purposes?
And he rode when time surpasses;

The cosmos lay at the previous spot,
What ye have done with a time a lot;
Just watching the blazing asteroids in lawn,
Waiting for nothing but the dusky dawn.

SHE

With a flower in her hand, she walked aside,
Whistling a tune, I walked beside;
With a glance at me she rolled her eyes,
I saw here n there and in the skies;

Caught my attention the blue eyes,
Deep as ocean and big in size;
Struck I was at the place,
She smiled at me with a solace;

I gave my hands in her hands,
I landed in the smooth and crazy lands;
With the same rhyme we went ahead,
Her fragrance sent me to paradise instead;

Speechless I was with a little shy,
How could I, offer her to fly;
With a four letter word in my eye,
Could I take her so much high?

I was just dipped in my tension,
Hazel hairs n her velvet voice caught my attention;
“I want to say that I love you”, said she,
Hearing that first I thought to flee;

Nothing I replied but cuddled more her hands,
I embraced her firmly just like strands;
Then, we went across the oceans where the love prevailed,
And with firmness n calmness our ship just sailed.

Even If......

Even if the tears come to an end,
And the life is all whole spend;
I will wait for you till the winter falls,
And again try to catch your glimpse with my calls;

Even if the road has taken a turn,
Towards a never ending way of fire with burn;
I will wait for showers of cool water,
Flowing before me with a spatter;

Even if the leaves of the tree has dried away,
And the branches cry night and day;
I will wait for the tree to be green again,
And the barren fields to be filled with grain;

Even if the wind is at its best,
With the possibility of survival the smallest;
I will wait for the air to be calm,
Blowing in the pink evening’s palm;

Even if there are thousand of nights in series,
And there are kept aside me, many worries;
I will wait for that one sunrise,
Which will glorify the coming night’s skies;

Yes I know there is nothing beyond even if,
So as you also know it’s the highest cliff;
"I will wait", is the best pledge,
As, "Even if", is its limiting edge.

The Man on the Sand

Daily, in afternoon when I go for prayer,
I see a man lying on the sand bare;
He seems a clear victim of tiredness,
With his loose body lost in sleepiness;

He has a green color shirt on his body,
And a white turban like a head with eddy;
With an unshaven beard loosen to grow,
Covering his face like a black color of crow;

The dust and smoke of the vehicles touch him,
They add to the sand and reach its brim;
The noise as usual howls around,
With a crazy tone and bitter sound;

When I return from the prayer he still sleeps,
In the bed of sand with long leaps;
I never see him awake on the sand,

He always rests in his own dream land.

Girl down the Hill

Down the hill there plays a girl,
Outside a little cottage with her hairs curl;
Her skin color is chocolate brown,
Suits her white frock from up to down;

Her teeth spark behind her lips,
Through which her sweet voice slips;
The nose is just small and round,
Which she pinches with a nosy sound;

She rolls her eyes between the closed eyelids,
And jumps on her little feet like tiny kids;
Clapping her hands on each other,
Lost in her girlhood with nothing to bother;

Her cheeks are soft and very chubby,
Which others press with some scrubby;
She tries to beat others with her little hands,
When they tease her outside the cottage lands;

When she tires and gives her guts,
From the outsiders which behave as nuts;
She screams and calls her only father,
And I run from my cottage to behold my daughter.

Values

Many like money,
And some like honey;
All like diamonds,
But few like almonds;

The way of life is like such,
With values aside and money kept much;
Deriving income is the goal of future,
Surviving on sources is the law of nature;

New things are sold,
But the olds are gold;
The time flashes back,
And water splashes on the rack;

For some its good relations forever,
And some like good food ending never;
Crowd is full of people who like racing bikes,
Many are those who live for salary hikes;

See the universe full of likes and dislikes,
Let’s follow our choice and keep aside spikes;
The values have become dull and they fly like feather,
Let’s pay them importance and fill them with heather.

Attire

Why not wear a shirt with broad collars,
With a low waist jeans of million dollars;

Why not the ties have some designs,
Just like flowers, circles and lines.

Why not cover the waist with belt,
Slippery, shiny and smooth its felt;

Why not the cap covers the hair,
And the person looks tall and fair;

Why not the fingers hold the rings,
With golden touch and diamond it sings;

Why not the shirt in and the T-shirt out,
You can be funky or be a scout;

Common, common lets go for this attire
Just bother nothing and follow your desire.

The Prayer

One night, when I was going to sleep,
The time was moving fast with a leap;
I turned the lamp off and everywhere it was dark,
But some light was coming from my son’s room with a spark;

I quietly walked to know the matter,
I never knew what will I see latter;
Nearing the room, I heard some voice,
I peeped through the door with no other choice;

I saw my five year son on the praying carpet,
Last week which I bought from the market;
He was joining his hands and praying to God,
And asking something from the almighty Lord;

“Oh! God please make me like my father,
Strong, powerful and caring for ever;
He who made my wishes come true,
Holding my hands in his hue”;

I saw his cheeks full of watery drops,
In the yellow light and pearly tops;
I thought a little and closed the door,
I walked back on the wetted floor;

I went to my room and sat on the praying carpet,
I joined my hands with my prayer favorite;
“Oh! God please make me like my son,
Innocent, caring and lovely than anyone”.

The Questions

In my mind,
Left, Right and behind;
There lay some questions,
Unasked, unanswered expressions;

Different images they form,
But they need some reform;
Like some traditions lurking,
And they need some working;

Like a lost soul on the moon,
To find the earths route very soon;
By defying its gravity,
Crossing the orbital cavity;

I realize my self as an unknown,
To the world and to me like a clone;
The original has been left on stars,
To leave me with so many scars;

The mawkish voice seems to be flowing,
It makes other waveforms just as blowing;
In my courtyard and the garden trees,
They surround it like trillion honey bees;

The last-which comes after all,
With rather some more confusions to recall;
These questions will live till eternity,
And the answers lie and smile at infinity.

Horse and the Beggar

The night rose and the evening departed,
The silence grew and the darkness started;
There lay a beggar with his bowl,
The street lighted yellow without any soul;

To some distance there stood a horse,
It was his luck or was a mores;
His neck was tied with a rope to the pole,
And he just thought about his role;

The wind blew the beggar’s bowl,
It reached to the horse with a howl;
The beggar just opened his eyes,
And the horse just lifted his head likewise;

The horse touched the bowl with his mouth,
The beggar looked him from the south;
Horse didn’t find anything for his empty belly,
His eyes were filled with a teary jelly;

The beggar rose from his place,
He went somewhere and emptied the space;
To leave all alone the scarlet horse,
In the sleazy night which changed it’s course;

The night reached its ultimate brim,
By traveling over the time’s shining rim;
It was waiting to fall in eternity,
To leave everyone in its fraternity;

At last, before dawn, the beggar returned,
With horse bean in his hand and some concerned;
“Eat my dear as hungry you are”,
“I have brought this for you from too much far”;

The beggar said, and patted his head,
The smitten horse ate his daily bread;
The horse thanked him with his eyes,
The beggar seemed to him as angel in disguise;

After the dinner, the horse offered him a ride,
Just to gallop with him on the street road wide;
The beggar accepted his offer and occupied his back,
To see the long and grayish track;

Today also, when the night is dark,
And the street light is yellow without any spark;
You can find the lying beggar and the standing horse,
In the streets of loneliness, without any remorse.

Life

(I have written this poetry for Imran Bhai. He suggested me to write a poetry for him on this topic. Many things and aspects could be covered on this topic, but time didn't permitted me so. Hope in future I could write some more on this topic.)

Though we don’t know much,
But the saying goes as such;
The God said-be and it was,
And further it went to be nature’s laws;

Life as they say,
Is the God’s creation in his way;
Science and religion have different perspective,
But let them converge to a same objective;

Although defining life is tough,
But its differences from other can be marked enough;
They gave many definitions,
But all lacked on unequivocal conditions;

Many say how life is going on,
It leads to a huge man from a small baby born;
Some say blinking of eyes is life,
And it becomes worst if some get beating from his wife;

I have heard people say,
That life is a journey in its way;
When the way ends at last,
The life goes somewhere so fast;

Sad man say’s-Life is happiness,
And happy man say’s – Life is not sadness,
So they never reach a conclusion,
And they ever lived in delusion;

So, let’s define it in our own way,
Don’t care what others say;
For some it may be even and for some odd,
But I think Life is a beautiful Gift of God.

The Rainy Campaign

Little little there is rain,
All my efforts are in vain;
Water flows in the lane,
I see the people walking in pain;

The water splashes with a stain,
From great height energy it gain,
It falls on us like needles of chain;
I ride my bike with a strain;

Many people have complain,
The rains delay flights of plane;
They also hamper the tracks of train,
The fallen trees are lifted with crane;

The water slips over the terrain,
I saw them when I was in Ukraine;
At some places it is beneficial for grain,
But what to do if Iam in Bahrain;

Gradually it has affected my brain,
It has made me fully insane;
As if I have drunk much champagne,
To lost my control really certain;

I have ceased everything to attain,
There is no one here to explain;
I wanted to reach the destination main,
Now I want to go to Spain;

But there it was really difficult to sustain,
I returned back to India’s fountain;
To see the water falls of mountain,
Like this in last I ended my campaign.

Miss You

I remember the day,
When I was in my way;
You just came along,
With a friendship too strong;

I passed my joyous moments with you,
After the lunch and some times before too;
I would always remember the things,
From our walks and talks just like strings;

I would appreciate the values which you believed,
Without any flaw and a lot relieved;
They were really true if so followed,
Nothing matters if the society had swallowed;

Very less people I have found,
To do such discussions with a good sound;
You were person among them and those,
Who could understand my feelings too close;

But now it may not happen like this,
Because you are leaving at a time of bliss;
I would remember you always in my talks,
But I will miss you in the long walks.

The Girl with Sack

Let’s go many years back,
When I saw a little girl with a sack;
She collected the junk items under the bridge,
When the sun was trying to hide behind the ridge;

The evening was blue with pink shades,
But her clothes were dirty with much fades;
The air was cool with pleasant smell,
And her hairs were messed so much well;

She didn’t cared about the people in the locality,
Who gazed her with disgust and humility;
She walked on her bare foots from place to place,
To fill the large sack’s empty space;

After sometime her search was complete,
With this the evening’s light was on deplete;
She started following a particular way,
What was her destination no one could say;

She reached a junk yard to give her collection,
One could see her face with mere satisfaction;
Then she took her job’s money,
She ran to her dwelling as bee to honey;

She picked all her money to reach a shop,
I reached near her and took a stop;
She gave her money and pointed something,
As I saw it was a silver earring;

Shopkeeper counted the money and it was less,
Her face developed a little stress;
She stretched her hands to take back the coins,
With this her confidence broke into infinite lines;

I could not bare the situation and the phase,
And gave him extra money required for the purchase;
The seller kept the earrings in her hand,
With this she was in the heavens land;

She smiled at me with such happiness,
Beholding me with her ultimate gladness;
She wore the rings in her ears,
And she blinked her eyes with little tears;

Today also I remember that picture,
When I pass through that bridge without lusture;
I search that girl with utmost caring,
With a sack on her back and silver earring.

Rhea

One day on return,
To the land of Saturn;
I stepped from shuttle with the thoughts along,
Just then there I heard a beautiful song;

It came far from the ice mountain behind,
The voice was sweet and one of its kind;
It removed sorrow from the grass,
It made sun shining like metal of brass;

The singer was a fairy or was a girl,
She traveled between the ice of whirl;
The surrounding temperature was very low,
All things stopped with nothing in flow;

The dress looked white,
With the golden stripe;
The hairs were black with ribbons yellow,
The steps were quiet and every thing was mellow;

I tried to capture the scene and the song,
Running behind her with the camera for long;
She passed away like a smooth breeze,
I stayed away with a shock and freeze;

Some how I managed getting to her nearer,
To see in her eyes blue and clearer;
They were deep and blinked with slow motion,
I felt as like falling in the Empty Ocean;

Soon after I asked her name,
She starred me like a burning flame;
The name was rhea and she was a moon,
She just replied in a beautiful tune;

Just then the Iceland below me cracked,
It seemed that some alien has attacked;
I fell in the water with ice and cold,
Some how I kept my breath on a hold;

I rushed to the shuttle with a speed of light,
I started the engine for the flight;
The vehicle somehow escaped the gravity,
All things were left behind in the cavity;

Today from earth when I look the Saturn,
I always find Rhea with a lantern;
She smiles and shines as beautiful as flame,
Faultless, blameless with a heavenly name.

The War

Long ago some groups had a war,
The consequences were fierce & effects reached far;
Why did it happen & what was the cause,
The trees were cut with a number of saws;

The dust was mixed with horses galloping around,
The scene was terrible with fearful sound;
The blood was soaked in the thirsty sand,
The red color covered the holy land;

The agony played within a deep profound,
The enemies chased them with the hound;
Water took the shape of sorrow,
Eyes gave her tears to the arrow;

Two groups were there or were three,
Nothing matter what the effect would be;
They have to fight and kill the others,
Nothing matters and nobody bothers;

The sword is shining in the sun,
Zigzag motion making with a run;
Slipping in the body without an obstruction,
Playing with humanity with human destruction;

They killed three and we killed four,
Let’s count the number with a sour;
We will win & we would win,
Let the humanity be in the bin;

The trembling lips cried for water,
No one was there now to shatter;
The deadly pain replaced the thirst,
Conditions became more and more worst;

Now the same thought came to mind,
What was the purpose left behind?
Why the humanity had a war,
Why didn’t they thought so much far?

I Got It

I was walking on the way,
With a rhythm you can say;
Many steps were fast,
But some longed last;

Some thing was going in the mind,
With no reason behind;
I thought to think about it later,
And I just aborted the matter;

Far I saw a tree covered with flowers,
I walked to get it nearer for hours;
More the steps I took ahead,
Far the tree went on the paths which lead;

It was evening and the light was less,
But I walked on the path with the God’s bless;
The sun was hiding from the night,
The dark started eating the evenings bright;

The whole atmosphere was on a change,
All the things went out of range;
The tree had gone out of the sight,
I forgot what is wrong & what is right;

I continued my journey with a hope,
To reach the tree down the slope;
After long time I saw a hut with lamp,
First I thought it contained a vamp;

I peeped through the hut and saw a man,
He laid beside with a plastic fan;
I asked him if I can sleep there,
He said yes, and asked me I came from where;

I fell asleep and lost in dreams,
While sleeping I walked in earth realms;
The morning came with birds chirping,
The orange sun opened my eyes with caring;

I found myself on the flower bed,
I saw the tree branches above my eyes and head;
The flowers were blue green and red,
The smell was nice and the fragrance spread;

I asked myself where the man has gone,
Has he sown the tree seeds in night and beyond;
How fast the tree got its size,
Is thinking like this is really wise;

Then a sound came from the tree,
I was the old man in night you see;
In the night I help those who have lost their ways,
And in the morning I become a tree full of shades.

Lets Do It

Let’s have a talk,
With stars and moon;
Just whistle and walk,
With the sunlit noon;

Let’s take a halt,
Under the trees in June;
Just sit on the cart,
And play with the mobile phone;

Let’s taste the salt,
And say ok is the food;
Just lessen the fault,
And be faultless soon;

Let’s go to the field,
With bat and the ball;
Just bring the shield,
And keep it in the hall;

Let’s plough the land,
With hope in mind;
Just remove the sand,
Blowing it far behind;

Let’s do it,
With no excuses & sorry;
Just gather the wit;
And there’s nothing left to worry.

Kiss

Oh! Dear gimme a kiss,
Far away from a place with bliss;
It will fly in sky and come,
All hurdles it would overcome;

It will land and touch my lips,
Like a honey with sweet sips;
It would have fragrance of Lilly,
But some time it would make me silly;

I will ask why you are here,
Don’t you have a little bit fear;
Have you come with special purpose,
Or brought something for me just tremendous;

In the end it will answer one word,
Oh! My dear in this whole world;
I have brought a message of dove,
Iam nothing but a symbol of love.

You

I know you would be there,
Within me in my heart I go where ever;
From misty grasses to thorny deserts,
I would perish in your silent concerts;

Next would be the shining sky,
Where you would assist me to fly;
The feathers just grayish white,
Crossing the clouds at distant height;

The sea just looks so much silent,
The weather may turn it angry and violent;
I would firmly sail my ships across,
With you I know there would be no loss;

You are the green leaf and I am a mist drop,
Don’t let me go like a slippery flop;
I would cover myself with your greens,
To camouflage me in the beautiful scenes;

I want to be the particle of the dust,
You be the wind of utmost trust;
Just drop me on the cushions of sand;
So that I can be the part of this mighty land;

More over there could be any possibility;
But I well know also my responsibility;
Please don’t forget me any where any time;
Just like a poem with a beautiful rhyme.

Life of Desire

Come let’s live a life of desire,
With thoughts in mind burning like fire;
No one to stop and nothing to bother,
With long leaps across the mountains farther;

The ice would melt into flowing water,
Just free the vapors and their zigzag laughter;
They will return and definitely we would enjoy,
With drops of happiness and showers of joy;

Let’s drop into waters of sea and lake,
Just go through it and make fishes awake;
They will smile as beautiful as flowers,
With small fins moving along with their lovers;

Just catch a bird and ask for a fly,
Riding on her back in the bluish sky;
Then land on the cloud made of vapor,
And come down with it like a falling paper;

Re mould all the rules with new regulations,
Let’s make many amendments with major corrections;
Just follow what is right and leave the wrong,
One day it would happen with determination too strong;

The things would go smooth with people happy,
The happiness would play in their lappy;
They all would lead a life of desire,
With their life as bright as sapphire.