That would never cure them.
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A poet
Who, adds a new pageTo the writing pad of loving heartsWho, have undergone erotic lethargyAfter seasons of disharmony and discord.And the pages arePainted in the colour of loveWet with rains of urges to liveLonger than their span of lifeClad with cotton of passionWarmer than the hugs of lost friendsFilled with naked emptiness of SoulFuller than…
Laughter is the only pill of solace
Impoverished by selfish laws of the land.
Love is like the drink of life
To live a dream inside caves of death.
ତମେ ଏବେ
ଗୋଟା ପୁଣିସଂପୂର୍ଣ ମୋହର ।।ତମ ସାରାମନ- ଦେହ – ଆତ୍ମାର ଉପରେମୋ ର ଅଧିକାର ।।ଆସ ଆଜିଶୀଘ୍ର ବିଛଣା କୁସପନରେ,ବାକି କଥା ହେବା,ପୁରୁଣା ସେବରଷ ର ସବୁ ତିକ୍ତଅନୁଭୁତି,ଚାଲ ଭୂଲିଯିବା ।।
Droplets of tear drop often
Spoons never taste the dish.
The song of bygone roads
on a wintered old ox.