When morn breaks out,
When buds with dreams of flowers sprout,
When the sun paints golden orange,
I just stand with hands like wings spread,
And,
I become a bird,
I become a song.
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The State Funeral
At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut, She could not have spoken for The rare award, The police have done the th...
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That boat of Madhu the boatman Is left tied at the ghat of Rajganj No one is taking it As it is filled with jute raw; If they would give... -
What a Sunshine You bestow On the plains of the city, Still moving slow, What a Sky You like a cover spread On my heart by hours of li...
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Evening Traveling non stop, This lullaby like You as come, On Your bosom weary me wishes to lie... As if a Brahms Casting a shadowy co...
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