The river streams so profound;
Sounding like sky falls molten on ground.
Transparent like crystal, water grapples
Through the rough hole in stones so hard!
All the sights, all the strings pleasing men's mensueutude.
In this uplifted prodigy
Govind sits on rock rickety.
He feels his almighty inside:
He ponders the earth glide!
In a casual gaze to the stream,
He founds a precious stone; almost a world's dream.
Lifting it in his hands
He keeps it in secluded funds.
Days pass by, year turns,
Rakish of men increased burns
the world. One day a man comes
to Govind; listening of his stunts.
"Merciful you", he said sobbing,
"Tell me where I shall get me dazzling?"
Govind gets in trouble,
"How shall I know?" exhales mumble!
"Deeper, more deeper think you sir,
I'll give you anything so far!"
Amazed, Govind cries so hard,
"Yes I remember. What a nerd!"
The stone peeped from a blanket,
He lifts it with extensive etiquette.
He gives it to the 'needy' man
Who cared for only his large can.
The StormThe Storm
Roar passed the storm as if in a pique;
It's too calm now- worthy of us to read
Its fate so late at night. And lying on my bed
I spread my arms at its acme to get
The livid storm go by; that is at the adolescent
Of my life- transcendental blasé anecdote; bent
In a bizarre way!
A farce is here, as a patois of my tongue;
"Pourquoi je voir ceci-t-il?" asks, the ruffian, flung
Limbs; fizzy hair- shabby and squalid-
Panting like ass. The storm still leads
Towards the end- the foyer of my childhood
And frowsty adulthood rickety shaking at rude
Remedy of milieu.
That too will pass by- the beautiful sun
Coruscating life; the flower and, on it, the bug
Buzzing cheerful numbers. Le beauté all around us
Shall perish in precise grave of time;- the rush
Seems to be the cacoethes today glinting bright