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English Sonnet 183
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No hurdles, I envisioned on the path-
When in true quest of poesy I embarked;
And like love-maddened lover, light-struck moth,
I to the heart of this reality walked.

(And turned to ashes), Tightly held my pen;
Then concentrated, all my mind and brain
And prayed to God for granting acumen,
Some semblance of control to thus retain.

But all in vain was prayer and in vain,
My sharp faculties blunted, I was stuck,
Till I donated blood with gutsy pluck
And learned to meekly bow to goddess pain.

Then in a flash, my pen few verses wrote,
Which sage ‘Vyogi’ now recites by rote.

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