Ask myself
What are you
Doing here
Dear Gajanan?
And discover
Gajanan is
Busy with
Human sorrow.
Fail to
Differentiate
Winter and summer
And appear.
Air is not there,
But only fire,
No one can say.
Rise or fall
No matter, but
See, to hold you
There is the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem