Every task of a man,
Every single move of him,
Every munite of his life,
There is a logic, a reason.
There is a thing, we run behind,
That is the peace of soul,
Thus we all are spiritual.
We all are trying to have it,
Lots of ways to get it,
Normal or abnormal,
tha's not a matter to us,
We need it, we have to have it,
When there is breach of thoughts,
Interuption on liberal imaginations,
Confusion conceals confidence,
Disorrientation leads to destruction,
Unusuality rises in our intentions,
We run out of mind, out of huminity,
But till then we are spiritual.
A saint or a murderer,
A politician or a philosopher,
Every one demonstrates own life,
Sacrifice all concentrations
To have the peace of soul.
Thus all of the human beings,
Man in simplicities or man of complexities,
Man in the mask or man of the face,
Everyone becomes blind and thirsty,
So we do everything for the peace of soul,
Thus we all are the spiritual.
'Every task of a man, Every single move of him, Every munite of his life, There is a logic, a reason'...precisely true...i agree wth these lines....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
true thoughts wisely said....