Is pleasure there
In body? in speech?
In family? in money?
If no, why then
We are all going after these
though externally?
It is fact,
I love my body,
It is fact,
I deliver speeches,
It is fact,
I have my own money
And my own family.
And I know they are
Not mine though.
Let me see my own clay
In my own mirror.
I know my body is not pure,
My family, my speech and
My money all are also not pure,
The atmosphere itself is not pure,
And all are perishable
And still I cannot renounce
My attachment my egoism.
I know I am far from Truth,
And I failed to realize the Truth
That is there in me.
And I am searching the pleasure
And searching the pleasure.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem