Miss - if she has to go, she'd be gone in a few month or so. What of the vows of this reckless heart? At dawn, I wake up to wake up to see her through the curtains that her eyes impose on me, as my dreary heart which I cage longs to engage her… Continue reading Honour Plucking
इक बार जो मैंने तुम्हें निहारा तो जी किया की तुम्हारे घुंघरेले बाल जो इस पूष की हवा में अक्सर बिखर जाते हैं, उन्हें सवार डालूं। सवारने का काम तो हमें अच्छी तरह से आता है - किसी ने सिखाया नहीं, पर फिर ये खोपड़ी में भरा दिमाग कह जाता है कि तुम्हें तो अपने… Continue reading पूष की पंखुरियाँ
A Daisy that you are, so little, so freshly bloomed, that when a starving mountain goat sees you on the frosted, naked cliffs and sniffs your well-crafted petals, decides to starve — dies. Oh, would you not turn your gaze at me and shower your fragrance — invite sunlight into my dimly-lit room; would you… Continue reading Casually Daisy-ing Around
I had never known a person with so much kinetic energy as to uplift me from the sinking mass of fragmented debris, but this woman who laughs heartily at common jokes and gets drunk on one shot of vodka - 30 ml. She has got my senses blooming - painted like lilacs in spring.
If I was an onion, I'd refuse to be pungent, and carry with me an enchanting scent, so that your eyes would not cry after you chop me into pieces to fry. That's how strong my love is. If I was a wave in the ocean, I'd emerge low, and welcome your beautiful body into me… Continue reading That’s How Strong My Love Is
Out of all the things I have lost, I miss a certain lily the most. She bloomed in summer, rain, and frost - lit me up like a lighthouse on an abandoned coast. I would sit next to her and sing a song, and would not get up until the sun had set or the… Continue reading Death of a Lily
Baby, cry out loud - no one is going to listen to you. They - all of them - are busy plucking flowers. And you belong to a place where flowers pluck themselves.