There is no learned man in here
...no Sthithapragjna!
Ephemeral wisdom
vanishes when naked truth dances
before one's eyes
in blood and flesh.
All sermons stop
at that moment of joy or pain.
And lo, tears have no feelings...
they always gush out
with the same enthusiasm
to explore the cheek-deserts
for time-etched changes
...old dimples, erased creases
and nascent dunes!
But roiled waters don't remain
roiled for ever!
A wait in silence
at the slushy shore
never goes a waste!
Waters again start mirroring
your thoughts and hope!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem