There were four in number,
All younger, one by two tens,
Who all had been with me in some span
And who had given to my scan
Their mind and lust in open.
Time parted us; lust kept us tight,
They have never failed in warmth
Though been made known of my whims.
Now they have all scattered
But never failed to attend my funeral
Of superannuation by their presence
Or by their telephone condolence.
The soul left with immense peace
02.01.2003
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem