मोम पिघलती है.

बीते हुए पलों की
एक लौ सी जलती है.
आँसू बहते हैं,
और मोम पिघलती है.


The Songbirds.

The song of the birds at dawn
echos all day.
Could someone attempt to decipher
the cry of the songbirds?
Since the beginning of time,
they’re crying out.
Till the end of time, they will.

O sweet Lord of the Universe,
give us the understanding
of this language unknown to our ears.
We’ve reached the moon
and wandered in the mighty skies.
Yet we fail to understand
when at dawn these little creatures cry.

Death Bed .

Every morning when the sun rises,
I open my eyes to a dead world.
Dead humans, pretending to live.
Nature, alive ; on the verge of death.

The sun rises without fail ;
on nature’s death bed.
I lay like a dead body on my own.
Wishing to come  alive, in a bird’s nest.