Weared off my days toil
I hardly can get myself to be refreshed
without any hope or desire for the nights dream
I lay down on my bed
when the clock indicates the right angle
with a sweet music and melodious voice
whispering in my ears
saying me on a sleep
listening the charms of life
I find my self life is not a quite desire
hopes are all in fragmented posture
I adhere myself to life again
to be ready for tomorrow's wain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So much gratitude and love for clock! It makes one responsible.This how one should respect time and work in India but unfortunately many will make right angle into acute angle as per their needs. It is highly educative. Rekhamandagere