Tears are pure transparent,
The molten fluid of pangs,
Who has handed over the iron wands,
Hammers, spanners to flowery hands?
Who has killed all the twinkling worms,
Snatching toys and dolls of fairylands?
Whenever I depart
To the new destinations,
Begin to emerge up in the mind.
In the miseries of life,
Amid the grove of ambitions,
At one night I alone pondered,
What is this love, heathenness?
Though the world is hazy obscure,
Smoke envelops its spheres,
Humanity grapple, wrestle for minor causes,
Blinded by the ghosts of impatience,