“It is said that one should never hurt a poet for then with their pen they would write such verses that would make the rest of the world cry and bleed for them their silent tears…”
Ain’t life a short yet tedious wait for death?
No matter how grand a name one has earned
And no matter the fame along, when dead
Every bit of charm would go in flame
Or left alone beneath the ground to rot
And become delicacies for maggots,
Helping lives to return back to earth,
The same fate lies for all of us alive.
Happy is the time when the sun would shine
Through the hazy cloud, the world clear and bright
Like a crystal ball with a happy glow,
The trees laden with leaves lush and green
And the happy flocks of birds twittering
In chorus to each other a joyous song.
Happy is the place where two lovers nest
On the easy slope of a forest hill
Face to face with the blue sparkling waves
Gently splashing upon the shore below.
But the happy time and the happy place
Are even shorter in existence than
This transitory life. The happy sun
Goes down when the evening star is born.
The time of lush and green too would be gone
With the onslaught of winter, bleak and cold.
Soon the birds will grow too weary to sing
And the nest too old for remembering
Two lovers, dead. Then someone else will come,
Live in happiness for a time and go
Back to earth or in flame, dust back to dust.
For a short time life gets born and then dies.
So my love, shed no tears when I am dead
And no white roses on my empty bed.