When you will go back like Savannah,
Will be remembered like a kiss of first love.
No matter how much I mentioned in these street,
Know why it is shy like the bride of the village.
Couldn't find any answer that could solve it,
Life was entangled like a vision of priest.
The stain is in me that you will know this only then,
When death will come, like a laundryman for clothes.
This is the story of everyone's luck,
Come like a king, go like a poor man.
In which human heart is not beating,
Poetry is like a newspaper clipping.
O clouds of heaven,come
come and wrap yourself in bravery
nourished by wet and very soft soil
on the body of the earth
How beautiful the green layer from fields
when you will come
Sitting on the scaffold, in the voice of nightingale
Most ripe soil, sing with pebbles
o red beaked parrots, come !
come to the guava orchard
If you come, rain will definitely seduce you
Like it has landed on your green wings, monsoon.
the circumference of the earth has become astringent because of your color.
How to pick up a fallen raindrops are lying on this wet soil...
One lonely little post from 5 months ago hehe. And a poem at that! Ohh I love poetry :-) This could be about a number of things, lost love, death...analogies. I'm curious as to what it meant for you to write this poet.. and don't worry know this is your pob voting post hehe.