Watching the birds flying very high,
As the pixels in the huge visual sheet,
Watching the worms squirming out,
The moment the sugar is added to the ground,
Watching the garden coffee table, cleared of tidbits,
All those stored in the caves of the ant mounts,
Watching me watching all these as the best pastime of life,
To connect my humble existence to the celestial teachers,
The mockery in your face emerge as the sharpest sword,
To snap these golden threads those are woven in my thoughts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fine thoughts...stored in the caves of the ant mounts. Tranquillity is disturbed by mockery. Beautiful poem.