Your mother, father, brother and sister,

Of the People’s Party,Going to the assembly house,Some planning to go on a black buffalo,Some on the bullock cart,Some on the ass or the mare.Wearing odd-odd, out of fashion clothes,The villagers after managing older pants and shirts,Getting ready to leave for the assembly house for the first time,As there is none to take the reins…

In a tell-tale story formThe matter of debateYears afterWhen you are no moreYour Padmavat,PadmawatDealing withRani Padmavati, Alauddin Khilji and Ratan Singha.A Rajput queen,A Muslim invaderAnd a yearning so different.How to tell,Tell it,Jayasi?Rani Padmavati a Rajput princessOf the kattar RajputsWhile on the other Alauddin a Muhammadan invaderAfter Padmavati?How can it be, how can it be,Jayasi,Return you…

Say you,A rose or a maiden?

Charming and attractive.A flower in the garden of love,Wordless but understanding,Modern, but heartful,A thing of beautyJoy forever sheMaterial not, immaterial love.Rimi is his love, Rimi is his inspiration,A rose from the rose garden,A star of the firmament,A lady with a lamp,A young, but helping girl,Working and slipping past.See her at a glance,A glimpse of hers…

There where the lovers go about dreaming,Crossing the fields and fallows,The highs and lows,Beneath the hillsBy the side of the rivuletWhich goes trickling down,Meandering through and traversing,Waters falling and gliding,Where the shepherd boys and girls go aboutGrazing the cattle.The marshland full of lilies, lying dotted with,The cattle grazing,Cranes and storks alighting,Settling down and flying away…

Aur naa hota mein ek kavi,Meri dadhi meri kavita,Meri kavita kaa shrota.Mr.Bearded and his poems,If had I not been beardedWould not have been a poet,My beards my poems,The source of my poems.