The light has disappeared from my world;
I have become the wearied shadow of a man,
Fell down like a shadow without limbs,
Melting into the darkness of the dingy night.
Does a shadow pulsate in rhythm, any time?
Does the shadow have a heart which throbs?
If not, which artery is holding the flame of
The grief in my heart, and its recollections?
Or is that possible for memories to die;
Or ripples in a lake to cease to a standstill?
Do we have a life after death?
A rebirth for a soul; again in this earth?
If there is, would that resurgent light recognize,
Each other and the relation of its last birth?
So, who is the youngest and who is
The eldest person, in this world?
Time has no relevance in ascertaining it!
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