At will, they come into light
And play with my all emotions
They leave for me a gift of monologue which
Like a shadow goes after me.
Everywhere I carry them, too
As they ride on the back of my mind
And sing songs with a flute.
Without sound they chime a bell
Even they go behind the cloud.
Quickly they return back
When I am at rest
And start a conversation with me
In voice low clinging upon my heart.
After the gameIs the prize ceremonyDo you dare to claim to be a playerWithout playing?The word is a stageLife is a gameThose are the very old sayingsDo not sit with meFace to faceSlough your idlenessMind your useless indulgenceAll aroundThe taste of sweet breezeThe sunLove and warmth from the eastBirdsBuzzing, chirping left their nestBees are busySinging…
Be my limitless imaginationLike the wild weedsNo whisper of a loverOr any rainGives me so much thrillThan your hoofI am in the dream of dreamsWhen the pipersSteal your sweet musicFrom your iron -shod feetMy dreams make meLess reasonable and less decentBut wiser and more intelligentThan the rest of the menWhile above the ground three feetYou…
My monkey jumpsWith all his mocking faceHe is not less naughty without a tail.With rules and etiquettesI wanted to tame himBut he shows his audacity tellingThose are all for the moderates.Though domestic monkeys are meantTo earn moneyBy showing their art at publicBut here I dance and my monkey enjoys the showAs I could not make…
To devalue things which you achieveIs not a self cheating?Let there be obstaclesLet things be hardAnd face difficultiesLike the air in the instruments of musicAnd learn like it how to make sweet tuneOut of adversaries.
What a man I am, awkwardNo one is like meNor I resemble with any otherNot even I am like the wind you can measureIn volume or litre, my essence is not in any height eitherIn length and width I do not spreadLike the sun I do not shineI am myself I need not to be…
And I want to become a holy ghostWhom the people would like the most.Like the retreating soldiers I like to come backTo my own permanent and eternal homeYou may call it a suicide or martyrdom.In my real home I see the newsComing from the lipstick coated lipsIn the television of my molten deathPeople are sobbing…
