Everything perishes and everything is born
Nothing is lost in the wilderness for good
A man is born to die and is born in another guise
Nothing is disguised to pretend anything
Like a boat upturned on the coast line
It remains same as ever.
Ancient joy and hope never die
All are preoccupied in our brave soil
Everything comes alive in beauty and bites
The beauty we see in the uppermost sky
The beauty we cherish in our deep soil never die.

The goal of immortality is not what we ask for
The goal remains in our whispers
The immortality of the flame will not vanish
We talk in soliloquy in our dreams
Our dreams will never die as we walk along
We will remain secluded in our dream
We will never die, we will be born in another dream.

Categories: Poetry [t]

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