Every man does a life in freedom crave,
Be it freedom from ills of ignorance,
From pangs of poverty, from plenty’s pain—
The worries born of too much abundance,
Be it freedom from sufferings and strain,
From deprivation and dread of disease,
From disasters causing the death of his,
Oh, freedom from this and freedom from that,
Freedom from bondage, life’s every let,
From time he’s born till captive be to grave,
To be becomes then his life’s sole mission,
Running away from things the load on chest,
His heady goal and heart-felt obsession
That oft dances in vain as futile quest.
And search he can’t what’s close— his soul to find.
None ever born is to ‘become’ happy,
As journey ends man’s destined just to be,
Springs happiness, springs freedom but from mind.
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- Recollections | 05.12.04 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And search he can’t what’s close— his soul to find. None ever born is to ‘become’ happy, As journey ends man’s destined just to be, Springs happiness, springs freedom but from mind.........so touching with lofty theme. A brilliant poem is astutely delineated. Thank you for sharing.
Again a poem of 2004 and gathering dust with no comments form anywhere... and then you visit it with such good words. Thanks indeed.