Over ashes of life, we trek.
Many tramped on this earth.
Stampede of time raise dust,
while we carry a casket of death.
In an earthenware pot we live
painted by best of hues on mud.
In long run, succumb to wear n’ tear,
ultimately breaking down to soil.
In funeral fire we melt down,
exploding our dreamy brains.
Curse of life leaves a trail on you
While riding white horse to fate.
Our dream houses litter in debris
charred lie our toys we played
scared face of near n’ dear ones
takes a peep into pyre I retire.
Breaking down in exasperation
Among heap of garbage we search
picking up life again from thrash.
Kneading a lump of clay, we shape,
Again into this world of delusion
At last, we pray holding a candle
Oh, lord let me lead you to senses!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem