The agony of the wishes of my heart,
The perils of my over much desire,
Home shadowed simplicity of my art,
And held my clueless, hapless life entries.

At ransom, countless intricate manners,
Are needed and inexplicable knots,
Are tied along the strings at the slots,
And only through this continued endeavors.

The instruments are stung, on which linger,
The restless eye and the itching finger,
By forsaking desires and the wishes,
By intricate Endeavour and commune,

By purest love and through the selfless kisses,
Are thought of, and created- simple tunes.

PRAYER TO SARASWATI

O! If you ask me, I can put aside
The business, I have presently in hand.
An’ if you be my teacher and my guide,
Then waiting for you ever, I can stand;

And tell my Muse to shed her ornament
So that its judging doesn’t ever hide
Your music. If we make this covenant,
Then, I can humble myself, shed my pride;

And I can in entirety, immerse
My entity in this, your vast design
To listen to your whispers to refine
My jarring music and my heavy verse.

Just promise me expressive, simple words,
Then, I can do my business, afterwards.

UNDYING HOPE

I see a glint of grayness in my hair,
And fearful typhoons in my ears howl.
All wingless longings scatter in the air,
And vague, uncanny fears grip my soul.

To thwart my great ambition. But I pray,
At Time’s alter. Tell Him That I must,
For bonus moments, with Him now parley,
To fructify my efforts. Time, the Just,

Does seen to listen; seems to say, “Amem”.
I start to ration moments and disburse,
These moments with a thirsty acumen.
And although this has made me tense and terse,

(For time degrades the toiling hearts of men),
It still may let me write unthought-of verse.