source My friend I remember that day while taking the photo You were repeatedly telling me Keep your laughter controlled Neither less nor more... I would either burst out laughing Or become serious You

source The river is shrinking Its veil is shrinking It is afraid of the noise of the city It is afraid of the silence of the village... Now it does not run away It flaunts itself freely Its face no longer

source Dreams are generous, You are looking at Blue sky covered with clouds, Valley of flowers, Listening to melody of winds A squirrel comes running from the nearby jasmine bush, Sits on your palm You

source One big problem of being good is that you never doubt anyone's goodness You think that if this world exists, then good people must be present somewhere in this world You believe that people should

source You wanted to grow thorny bushes in our fields So that they spread all our wisdom On the ground And the feet of our thoughts Wherever they want to go Come back wounded You wanted to water these

source I have a desert I have some desert bushes And during the storm My Sun hides in these bushes Those who have their own desert They don't run after mirages They weave beautiful dreams from each and

source You should go out with the one you love Before sunrise, go far away from the bunker colony and cross over that bridge of faith built on the river of emotions which the gods sitting on the threshold

source My friend! My love! One day when after heavy rain the clouds will gather their tears when the winds destroying everything in anger will stop and will start touching my cheeks again when the fire

source Open the barrier of blocked streams Why is river scared? Say something Where is your flowing flow lost Where is your gushing stream lost Why has your bright water turned pale Why has everything

source Why does the cloud feel so proud with the gusts of the east wind? In the state of ecstasy, on whom does the cloud surround it? Summer burns within monsoon swells in the eyes Rising in the little

source There are so many beautiful things in the world The world itself The sorrows that hover around the heart Occasionally emerge Like a place beyond the heart Where love stays hidden Those books that

source The range of words is not ordinary The tune surrounds us the whole night The intoxication does not subside for days We keep humming without any reason Our feet revolve in rhythm every evening On

source I keep thinking about writing for many days, I wait But one day all my efforts to write melt away in the effort to stay alive They rot and perish in my hunger to remain in the world The news often

source If the word was a mirror, it would recognize the shadow that is dragged on long desert paths to find the cave that can accommodate the destination of man's search and desire If the word became a

source I can't sleep at night... I can't sleep at night, Every moment passes in fear, Burning swollen heavy eyes, But sleep is lost as if anonymous No work gets completed, I get entangled in thoughts of

source I saw, wherever I went, The moon walked with me! The tired evening had returned home My heart was heavy and my body weak, I was bored sitting I came to my window My attention did not break, I kept

source As long as there is weakness in the mind There is sadness for sadness, and affection for happiness But happiness does not always remain in the world Sorrow does not always remain in life These happiness

source Mind drowns in past memories This often happens in the months of monsoon The sweet smell of soil is felt The unshakable smell is felt So many lost references come together Paintings become rhythm

source I used to say I will do this, I will do that I will smile and shoulder the mountains of sorrow I am accepting this in writing, my dear That heart of mine has lost That dream of my life which was

source The dying lamp burns So much darkness, so much strong wind Find a cure for such weather Do something so that the spring breeze blows again Every courtyard is illuminated Every threshold lamp burns