Perish In Clay Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Perish in clay

Whoever takes birth!
It has to meet death
The birth and death as usual
Remains concern for individual

But as life itself is termed as strange
We have to manage
Whether we are poor or rich
Some goal has to be reached

Even poor lead exemplary life
And face sharpness of knife
But nothing deters
As they always prefer to cater needs

They know the body has to go back to clays
There is no fun in wishing to stay
Same green as ever
But perish in clay forever