Wont silence sing song?
Wont soul dance like peacock?
Wont void show you path?
Wont heaven fall in your hands?
Wont forest feel like flower garden,
When you walk in the path of love...
What happened to my poetry
which I've written in my dream?
Did it melt in my eyes?
Oh! Is it wiped away by dawn?
Search and give my poem
or else, give me back my dream.
I've told my friend that my heart is made of stone, but you've emerged in my heart like a creeper that sprouts from the cracks of the stone.