I cannot stop cursing myself
For not giving you
A better place
To rest your head
Than this frail frame.
What rest will you get from it?
Assailed by storms of endless desires, envy
Worries, aches and pains,
Heir to only a meagre slice of joy,
It grows old and weak,
Itself seeking a shoulder to cry on.
In my weakness, I fear to lose the will and love
That hold me to you:
The light in my hour of darkness,
The armour when I am besieged by doubts,
And the resting place when all hope is lost.
But you said once, that you will be happy
With whatever I can offer you:
Old, weak or ugly,
A leaf, a flower or a road side blade of grass.
I have therefore made of this heart
A temple,
A place where you can henceforth
rest your head.
Wow. Beautiful poem...i loved the words especially...I have made this heart a temple, a place where you can rest your head..So pleasant and cool. Loved reading it.
A wonderful sentiments poem nicely rhymd too . I hope u review my latest on gambling too.
emotion is dripping from lines like nectar.would like to read again and again.
no temple anywhere like this yeah this is heart made of all holiness eternally........
Hi thank you so much for reading. I shall go on keep in touch. Mohabeer Beeharry
nice poem...10 final place in all the cases where you can rest much to the detest of lifes
Making a temple out of a heart, to find a place to rest is nothing but profound. Ten of ten
i agree with all here esp. Geetha Ji.... there's a specific feel in it! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
how do you want me to imagine? just nice to keep the head to take rest...