I stand at the head end of the patient,
a speechless witness to the kind cruelty
of the surgeon’s scalpel.
I have seen myriads of hearts
...
The fragrant peace is difficult to achieve,
The gong of time clicks,
to start a struggle,
struggle for the glorifying survival.
...
Three pairs of old legs
and three strong sticks,
everyday have a stroll,
in every dynamic evening,
...
With blurred hopes and blunt dreams,
not with melancholy within,
I am to sail in the dynamic sky,
across any horizon I confront with,
...
Envy reigns supreme in my mind,
when I see those birds relishing on fruits,
and those flying in the azure sky,
gradually merging into the blue vastness.
...
The symphony is lost,
so are my thoughts,
eloping with the winds,
swinging like a swing,
...
An old man and a tired stick,
are preparing themselves,
to play their ultimate role,
in this worldly theatre.
...
The stillness of the floral profusion,
in the land of imagination.
The coolness of the holy moonlight.
The silent twinkling of the cosmic stars.
...
The silence in the graveyard,
disturbed by sporadic howling.
The insane wind blows,
forcing the dry leaves
...