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The crescent moon has disappeared into
The pale light, of the Milky Way.
It loomed as an indistinct shadow around.
A tragic lassitude in tears remained in the distance
With a sword, and the tumult of thunder nearby.
The nightingale sang a tune in melancholy.
Like a rose, the memories of past life
Was lying in the lap of the mind.
In a night when the stars were in slumber,
When the midnight koel was humming,
I was standing outside your window
In the hope of seeing, your charming image.
Alone I waited and waited till the early dawn
And in despair,of not even hearing your treads,
I retreated with dismay in the heart.
You have drifted away from me into
A strange and motley domain;
Leaving me in the murk, to grope,
Where no stars shine; no beacon to direct.
I did spread my dreams under your feet,
And you tread on them so harshly.
How many desires we wanted to hatch out?
How many dreams, we aspire will bloom?
Not even one desire could bloom;
Not a spike of grain could we harvest;
When can I hope to see you again
In this world of gloom, you have made for me?
Every piece of stone had wings,
Long, long ago, in the Stone Age.
Dreams clad in anklets also
Were having their own tiny wings.
Leaves used to fly, like dreams
And the earth was in the prime of youth.
Flowers became fairies in splendour,
And rivers became beloveds;
Butterflies used to love the blossoms
And waves loved the streams.
The paramour worshipped the beloved earth
Who was the flower of the flowers
And the river of the rivers.
There came a day, when the wings of the stones
Were hacked away, by the jealous Creator.
Thus the flowers were forsaken
And the streams grief stricken...
They are, the dreary tears of the stones
In desolation, that flows out through streams,
Striving, to reach the river, at last.
The flowers still keep vigil from dawn to dusk;
For the butterflies to come and embrace them,
And take away the nectar, through the kiss of a lover.
What is that which makes you a prisoner?
Not the iron shackles on your hands,
Not the ropes which binds you tight,
Not the wooden cage you live in;
But the comforts you discover through gold and wealth,
And with the women and children you possess.
That makes you a prisoner and convict!
They are very smooth chains, yet they bind you
Like the Lilliputian’s on Gulliver.
Is it possible to break these chains?
And escape from the alluring charms of life?
Comforts, repose, desires, lust, greed, avarice,
Jealousy, selfishness, ego, violence and malice.
We play with them in life, in our imagination.
They will sweep us away, in the torrent,
Spreading, in all directions of our life.
We float above the flood, through lives
And generations, through ages.
A prisoner sentenced to life!
We live under the spell of these images.
We hate to accept them as dreams;
But continue sleeping in its comforts.
The light is rummaging for a lantern,
And the lamp is seeking the light.
Both are groping in the darkness,
A search, for one another.
The imbecile, lights a torch at mid-day
To observe his surroundings,
As the desires, are craving for fulfillment.
The river and water separate when it reaches the sea;
Grief and agony sever away from the soul
When the last breath of life, is exhaled.
In the empty desert of great expectations,
The lonely horn-bill of the mind, yearns
For the rain cloud, of happiness.
Spring bids farewell to the blossoms in the garden
And fragrance, deserts the flowers.
A cage is lamenting for the nightingale
Who fluttered away into the deep blue sky,
Liberating, from imprisonment.
Life is flowing like a stream; in it
The ripples assume the shape of our imagination.
Like the ocean of our hopes and desires,
The sea beckons, the stream, from afar.
Enter the mansion of tiny little dreams
Adorn a little smile on the lips;
Bury yourself in the warmth of oblivion.
Aspire for those dreams to come true...
