In the garden of life,Grows a sapling of pain,The deer of songs nibbles at it.The winds of seperation Blow through the night,A few leaves drop.A few leaves drop,Mother, they drop,And sounds stir in the garden.If a few birds of breath Should fly away,The deer of songs is afraid.But the birds of breath Will surely fly,Nothing can hold them back.Through the night In every direction They fly away.
-Shiv Kumar Batalvi
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