Sunday, October 11, 2009


To sway the elegant self,

To avert scorching warmth of glow,

Shall the blooming flowers await

The gentle breeze to blow!

To appease unendurable hunger,

For the nourishments to draw,

Shall the famished worms await

The tender shoots to grow!

To liven up crops on dead dry substratum,

The trust the season did embezzle,

Shall the perturbed farmers await

For a blessed heavenly drizzle!

To solace the sight of old weary eyes,

‘ere with life she’s done,

shall the age-crippled mother await

the return of her only son!

To pour out my concealed words within,

To whisper my words close to your ear,

Shall I, anxiously await

For your presence my dear

Karma thutken

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