Neelamani Sutar

Surprisingly,
nowadays I am shrinking in all things,
hesitation in everything, skepticism in everything,
reliance in nothing......
...

I see in the mirror,
we also see our fire perished in the light of strength
you drop the dim lamp life.
People don't see themselves nowadays,
...

Red cassia flowers are a forest fire,
or so they say, a summer flower.
Anarchy is green.
An explosion of buds.
...

Stand facing the sun and take an oath that you will not tear it;
Touch the spring and roar, 'I will not leave anyone's chair. '

Be it the wrong way or the river, everything is closed if you can jump.
...

On my sphere of slow etymology, do you know the wrong words?
I have never seen two colors of light ----fashion.
I know I will never see it.
...

Let all the resistance be broken under the protest,
let it be awakened in the light of the spirit of good wisdom.
Conscience is dead today to self-interest,
we have forgotten that we also have a responsibility towards society,
...

The corona virus will spread, the recession will come, people will lose their jobs and shelters.

There will be a shortage of food on the earth. Who will pull the human corpses as the stray dogs?
...

As far as everything seems to be blurred from a distance, I see everything clearly, my heart is pounding, the unspoken story is in my heart.

The green fields return home in the evening, then the twilight --gloom spreads the lonely wind, the broken wings of the bird. With it's head blowing, waiting for the tumultuous flight.
...

On a rainy day, I float like a spider in an earthen city, the glue of the body is my own land, who also can I blame?

Insane to find the demonic catastrophe suppressed, folded in the gaps of the body of the beauty!
The lamp post, like the naked thighs of the sun, gives a shameless handshake in the afternoon, the delight of an imaginary woman!
...

Come winter, come cold as a lonely side walk.
Like migratory birds with aching hearts.
Come be the story of rainbows;
Like geese in the land of birds, like rose among thousands of flowers,
...

Winter has come, on the way to the village,
in the fields full of crops,
in the wild flowers of the sweet brown streets,
in the small ferry pier.
...

Then close to God, the pearly water on the face,
like a ghee lamp burning in the light of eternity.

We have woven vain palm leaves with our fingers,
...

Sadly, I will not keep even an inch of the land uncultured inside me!

I will weave three rows of white smiles there, a bunch of happy women meeting with their five sense organs alert, they will look at each other again like fog and say, are you Homer, the Greek poet? Was there a blind poet still exists on the earth?
...

Lotus is burnt in the fire of water, tell me what to wipe with the water of fire!
...

Touching the soil of heart,
sometimes the cloud of love
precipitates
as the raindrops of compassion.
...

A great time will stop,
all the sky will fall to the ground, the harmony will be monotonous.
Then, we will be exhausted, lost from the wreckage.
...

Sometimes death brings a slice of cucumber and gives it salt, sweet, eye -wide, modest, sometimes death comes and says, the clouds have come.
No reply ---
And he said, a dark cloud had come, I didn't answer.
...

I'll wipe away your tears with my hand,
I'll tear down the cotton hill edifice,
floating like a piece of iron,
I'll stand your barren life facing the sun,
...

Everyone has sorrow, some understand it, some don't.
Poet has sorrow, poetry also.
Going to the grain field he also has sorrow. Also he is sad.
The river has sorrow, the mountain has.
...

I did not notice when I came to the crematorium to give birth to countless deaths.
Like the river, I am afraid of pretending to be who I am not.
As the dream fades, the black peak also fades.
The rats participating in the race to bell the cat is caught, in the eyes of the owls.
...