The Wanting Soul - Poem by Sudebi Giri
Where is the furrow the plough digged?
Where is the merry fields the farmer raised?
Where is the water the rain that showered?
Man sits in between the barren heath.....
May I spark a fire from the pen?
Will it burn you, will it burn me?
It does nothing, it is fume....
And men say 'measure for measure'.
Oh eternal laws cordoned with jaundiced eye!
Where is the justice, where is the payment?
Were you not a vessel brim with expectation?
May I sieze a moment to laugh in mirth.
Or may I cull all the efforts,
For one that perpetually blooms no flower.
Am I a desert that sucks all water,
And pines for more,
And pines for more.
In voidness, in airyness do I fly
All the labour of midnight eyes....
Do i cull it all and cremate it cold?
Is this the world where you barter worth for worth?
Is this the morsel you mercy for a drought-drained belly?
Malignant is the world design!
Where death kills not one:
One kills death by rope, water and fire...
This discord is no failure yet.
The plough still digs..
The farmer does again raise...
The water still will rain...
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