I am laughing loudly and walking the path
As if I am the happiest man in the earth.
But I secretly carry the dolor in a cart
My heart burns and my mind is torn apart.
Depth-less is my grief
Still I walk like a king, as if,
I am the owner of the sun and the moon
Life is to me a mirage, an illusion
Better senses make me the man of renunciation.
To cut a joke, to make a fun
I laugh out loudly …the laugh of the dolorous
Though the inner soul bleeds the delirium delirious.
I feel their foolishness
As they show me their faces
Without smile and full of sternness
Their helter- skelter movements are hilarious
With out any benefit and totally ridiculous
To taunt them, to make them ludicrous.
I laugh out loudly …..the laugh of the dolorous.
The laugh of the dolorous heart is sensible as they have made your soul bleeding. Touching lines with hidden events!
@ shazia the respected poet sums it so well, hardly room for further comment :) sat
Life is to me a mirage, an illusion Better senses make me the man of renunciation.I love ur poem
brilliant writing. Depth-less is my grief Still I walk like a king
it is a very emotional poem.... philosophical, emotional poem. sometimes we smile when want to cry... to show everybody everything is ok... but it is just one of our masks.... You poem is nice in its style of writing and perfect in its meaning. i like it, good job)))
we live in the time of the blind and deaf... all too easy to let life lose meaning! good poem.
It is a scintillating feeling to read these lines as it is feasting my eyes - but to be frank enough every line the poem is as good as these two. You poem is producing pictures on mind Wahabji, carry with your noble work! I am the owner of the sun and the moon Life is to me a mirage, an illusion
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is right it should be so Man was made for Joy & Woe; And when this we rightly know Thro' the World we safely go. Joy & Woe are woven fine, A Clothing for the Soul divine; Under every grief & pine Runs a joy with silken twine...... Blake... Appearances are deceptive...beautiful poem...