Ask not where my grave be
I am mariner of high seas
at the mercy of treacherous tides.

I offer chrysanthemums
to my father’s picture
with petals raining sacred ash.

Winter chill bites my bones
will my roofless neighbor survive,
this icy cold, I wonder!

Isn’t it the same bowl
wherefrom I ate my humble rice
now its hollowness mocks.

The frog in pitch gloom leaps
with a gurgling sound
my sight returns.

The first fall of snow:
the valley wears wooly white
the slippery ridge bleats.

With a solitary glowworm
in deep darkness
I hear music of silence.

Caught in hailstorm
I’m busy making straw suit
for my naked neighbor!

I dream big
journey to moon and mars
trek on bridge of sighs to stars.

I fell forests to build cities
to resurrect dream-houses on sand
with ghosts to dwell in a hollow land.

So beautiful
the snowy peaks at morn
I join the winged choir.

The valley wears a white fragrance
heavy with snow-flakes
I play rock-music.

The cheerful-chirping summer
fragrance in air
peacock dances carefree.

Whistle on , oh whippoorwill!
my companion
of loneliness.

The sea wears a veil of gloom,
its roar sends shivers
night-sky cheers!

We will surely meet
in embrace of fragrant wings
two white butterflies.

Uprooted trees and poles.
The only survivor of hailstorm,
the invincible grass.

An empty sky
no bird in sight
how lonely this autumn evening.

Daffodil has come:
grass is green
my heart wears leaden mist.

Why are you here?
no answer.
My life but a question mark?
(Yayati)

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