Clinging to your finger, mom,
I ventured my first steps:
Learned to make difficult turns,
On the tortuous walks of life
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Wrapped in the shroud of eternal life,
Huddled in the bosom of mother earth,
Free of the world's noise and hustle,
In longing arms of peaceful slumber
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A crowd of dry-lipped poeple
Wanders in an arid desert.
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In the torn mantle of dense clouds,
The tired sun has snuggled itself to sleep. '
A bird is lost in its thoughts
On a branch of a tree.
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It is the heartwarming sound of song
Betokening the living throbs of this house
Which is but my whole universe
It is my self-same friend - speaking for me
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Like a pale moon in a circle of painful gloom
With knotted hair and harassed eyes
He leads a gypsy life.
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All windows are sealed shut;
All doors leading out are padlocked.
Somewhere in my Ville of Gloom,
there're treasures of my woes buried.
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A pale dry ailing leaf,
Shorn of a branch of the tree,
Is holding on to gusty winds,
In aimless wandering spree.
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A life free of hazards is hard to conceive.
A mountain came against my way
The first step I took,
And what I found at end of toil-a wild deserted place.
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