Bed of Life and Death
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Lying on bed,
Cold and warm,
Beneath the bed
Is grave,
Ever warm and rest,
The bed is full of thorns
With mind restless,
The grave is warm
With mindless grace,
With only sky that is
No Sky.
The grave yard is grave
With serious knowledge,
Waiting with no aim,
Two beds are for us,
One is dead with life
Another is life with death.
Restless night with joy
With no respite,
Restfulness in silence
Having no torture of joy.
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This is the best - -shortest and sweetest poem so far- - I have read of yours Realities of life we all are living sleeping on a bed they place all of us on the ground once dead why waste a bed great view let most read it The life in me still exists any day I maybe DEAD then in news papers they will ask you have you not read Poet Me is now dead don't cry young bhai ask me not why
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Two beds are for us, One is dead with life Another is life with death. Restless night with joy With no respite, Restfulness in silence Having no torture of joy. Great lines...👍👍👍