

A small thing,
A berry,
Red in colour,
Was found in a garden,
Owned by me.
I presented it to my Lord,
Who put it on the top of an ice cream,
A cherished it a lot. Adios!


A small thing,
A berry,
Red in colour,
Was found in a garden,
Owned by me.
I presented it to my Lord,
Who put it on the top of an ice cream,
A cherished it a lot. Adios!

A thought in a seer,
Asked me its value.
I said that it was too low.
It asked-“Isn’t a seer enough?”
No.
What weight can a thought carry,
When your purse is big enough?
Adios!

Did you see the writing?
Did you see the pain?
Ah! Just because one is a poet,
Doesn’t mean he or she isn’t creative.
And if you have seen the writing,
That means that you are a human,
Or waiting in line to be one.
But for the poet it’s only happiness,
As God’s creation is to be happy.
Adios!

A big letter was written by a lover,
But he couldn’t post it.
Now the receiver on the end,
Got married,
And he kept on writing,
Forever,
But couldn’t post it.
Adios!

Learning a new name,
Written in the books,
Sees a benevolent love,
Which may have bonded between parents,
Between God and His creation.
Learning a new name,
Is good for one’s health and brain,
And it is love,
Which gives the fuel to run,
The things.
Adios!