We have written a lot!
Whatever had filtered and percolated,
Through the ugly granules of filth,
Of our mind, that decided time after time,
To taste light for a while,
After long hiatuses in the dark.
We have a million thoughts within,
Our chattering minds,
Some of them appeal to our humane senses,
And we choose to write, before it evaporates.
And as the waves of time sweeps, below our feet,
We forget those moments that made us think,
All the joys and love we had pushed out,
From ourselves.
And then one day, we clean up our cluttered tables,
To chance upon some ugly papers once more,
That speaks of our beautiful thoughts from the past,
Our forgotten thoughts of beauty,
Our lost feelings of love,
Our marooned feelings of hope,
Our faces without an ugly mask.
Keep adding to the clutter and reassure,
That there is still a part of us, that hasn't died,
It still lives on those dead and ugly pages,
In a tattered note book,
Which may also live after you die.
And someone later on, may shed a tear,
Live and feel your fair thoughts,
That's vanish now in you
With the blink of an eye!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem