He doesn't ever speak
He finds nothing to say
He doesn't take sides
He has no belief to decide.
Quietly he listens to one and all
Without taking any of their call
The only hint on his inexpressive face
Is the melancholy of detached happiness.
It means nothing cause and chance
God for him is an aloof distance
When the clouds skim the sky's blue
He finds them pleasant without a clue.
He isn't bothered of goal and fate
Of probing deep for cause and effect
When the stars beget a tranquil evening
The birds go back with suns in their wing
He needn't run wild to hunt and find
The silent fountain that immerses his mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem