My Father
and my father’s father
spent their lives
at the foot of this hill.
...
Every candidate
Tries to push down
My throat would-be
Policies of his party
...
Some sorrows
are like vitiligo
which never go
some sorrows
...
The song birds
Of my dreams
Sit on the sill
Where I sleep
...
Many keep asking me
Why I choose to write
About my own Self
How can I answer
...
The frisking fawns
and flying birds are
pleasant to watch -
I often heard
...
I remember still
When you met me first
With Colors of youth
On your mind.
...
A fine cage
lies in my heart
and a bird in it.
...
Let us dissolve ourselves
in to each other or else
the rain will take
credit of it.
...