When she hurts,They close their eyesAnd pretend to be – the blind men,She is in pain,Can’t you see?What happened to you, my kind men? They cajole her oftenTo their command,“Tired are you? Sleep-tight men!Need some food?”Maybe all the time,Isn’t that right, famished men? She is
खोजूं तेरे समभावशब्दों की धुरी में, तेरी आदतों में छिपती हैमेरी परछाइयों के निशाँ |तू सर्द में है वो मख़मली कम्बल,ओढ़ते ही जो भुला दे दिन रात का पता |हरारत में तेरी उँगलियों के छींटे,सौंप दे जो ओस की सीत्कार,तू शब्द है ऐसे प्रचंड,लगते ही
How would you rather have me?Between the words of a meterOr in a misshapen form.Fighting a war with syllablesOr ridden with adjectivesWith allusions galore.Do you like me in a rhyme?Or prefer me not in a noteTo a metrical song.Do you want to sell me?In the