Do not put your lips to my cup
for it is fragile, brittle and
poised perpetually to fall
to its inevitable destruction!
Exquisitely created, it proclaims Time's rushing feet --
joy's passing bloom can't wait.
The laden branch painted on it
will snap and wither
and scatter
its blossoms in the dust...
poised perpetually
on the edge of experiences
it ensnares my heart
with beads of uncertainty.
I love it for all the evanescence
embodied in its shape
Do not put your lips to my cup.
They are ready to immortalize
things they touch
with imperishable blaze of youth.
The undying seductive flame
will erase
the flickering hieroglyphics of transience
and changeability
constituting the Glamour of our life.
by Sharad Rajimwale
Jodhpur, India
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem