Always a frail mind,to Live,I must act this inevitable play of life:'The LIving Death',the deranging and perplexing scenes are in it! Ah!let me not exit the World's STAGE, in silence, leaving the Nature's serene music,my Muse and the Beauty of MANYImaginary dreams.

Seasons,the sad dreams and happiness give,like in on end,the bleak summers bear heart-felt sighs of death that circles the grave;and church bells toll loudly so deep and drear.

On a delightful day, I planted a Vision, and it branched, like a Holy Basil-spread wide in the swaying mind, basking the innocent rain,and it grows unruffled and fertile in me.

A Magical vision, uplifting mind's perennial quest,while numberless shadows obscured the words flow.why must a Writer stop the play,for he has a cascade of stories and reasons to throw.

Gloomy, the small bird you were, slow and low,before just flying to the crown of Hill,with mended Errors and your accomplished songs.