As he listens to the running brook,
He closes his eyes and the little book.
It lends a rich, melodious harmony
worth beyond all quotes and ceremony.
...
It was my last wish
The winds of Dublin receive my ash.
For decades more than seven
I was on the playgrounds of London.
...
(We may have sublime philosophical views but in moments of torturing pain, our senses may overpower that wisdom. It depends on the degree of our body consciousness. The lesser the degree of this, the lesser we feel the torturing pain and the more our wisdom will prevail on. Great masters have actualized this. After all, we are mortals and yet we can alleviate pain with our innate philosophy. This is the core message of the poem) .
Rolling tears tell his pain
But all end in vain.
...
Prices go up
Our life goes down.
Salaries go up
But our hearts go down.
...
(The Father of the Nation needs no introduction to my readers. His life was one of sublime philosophy with sacrifice) .
Upon the sands of time
...
If the world is purely homogenous
Where is for beauty any chance?
When everything falls in the same zone
What more is life than a monotone?
...
(Once upon a time bullock carts were a common sight on our Indian roads. Now, in the change of tide, these carts are swept ashore. Here in this poem, a bullock cart is recollecting its breezy days. The last eight or twelve lines apply to the nostalgic feelings of the reader as well. Thus, two planes of reading is possible) .
Once upon a time
When the winds were soft,
...
At night, from the observation deck
New York is but a diamond necklace.
She is a lass in every inch,
Her vision very enthralling and rich.
...
I wanted to reward your soft words,
But, couldn't buy
the soft glow of the moon, or
the twinkle of the stars.
...