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Writing poetry, I know not,
I had only read poems
During my good olden student days,
When I was all raw,
One without experiences of life,
Who could not understand,
Life’s diverse experiences,
And the confounding variety of life’s pages-
Of love, of ambition, of jealousy
Or of loss of loved ones!
II
When I see and compare
The pages of the present,
With those of the olden days,
I find pages of the later years,
Are more variegated than those of
Former years which provide a dull reading,
For there are no ups and downs there.
Life's drama conspired
With Time to unfold
Fast-changing roles
On the world's stage,
At times laughing;
At times gimmicking even like a clown;
At times donning Prospero’s sombre robes;
At times playing lover’s game;
At times brooding Hamlet’s roles;
At times in the blues;
When life robbed
The possessions precious.
I played a weeping role without any fault.
I played a blissful father and a husband,
I played a brother
And a friend well without any blemish,
I played human on the stage
For I am not King Janaka of Videha,
Who can the tremors of life withstand,
Or remain stoic to pleasures and pains.
But, believe me,
I still pray to the Supreme Soul
Not to give me the precious jewel that lies
At the bottom of the cup of His blessings
After he has showered them all on us: rest
Lest I forget Him lost in my earthly roles. |
