what pleasure is this to you, o god,
in creating and destroying me again and again?
are you not tired of this boring game?
you scatter around me a wealth of pleasures
all of them but beyond my tiny reach-
all my life i waste in greed and tears
i acquire nothing but wrinkles and silvery hair-
why not teach me the real pleasures of living?
-sundaram chandrakalaadhar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem