Joy is a mood
Mere blows; and flows.
Uproots notions of such
Green them, for tree.
Those paved, rosy to clutch
Sweeps off to sea.
Mind's repose is
Its own expanse.
Pushing back your fences
Will not hold more
Lassoed of the senses;
Branded a 'chore'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem