Running away from one to another,
Half bitten fruits are everywhere,
Everything here bite and get bitten,
The illusion of evolution blindly smitten.
The time tested tearful theories,
True and truthful to their memories,
Erasing is not as easy as recycling the bits,
Emotions are the steam from the boiling kettles.
The whistling kettles are a nuisance,
To tear the eardrums and break the hearts,
The automatic kettles are a blessing,
They stop the feeding fuel at the right time.
If stopping is an issue, go to the Gods,
To whom you may convey all your secrets,
They will not gossip with other gossipers,
If stopping is an issue, meditate in a lonely spot,
The lonely spots are not lonely, when you realize,
Yourself and the conflicting issues with free mind,
All these troubles are just the dust to be vacuumed,
I have been in all these places while I am in illusions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem