Let all my love flow towards you, lord,
and my hopes within reach your ears!

Let my heart, wherever it may be,
always answer your call;
and let my chains of bondage break off, lord,
as I slowly drift towards you.

I must now empty my beggar’s plate
that others have filled,
I am already blessed
with so many secret gifts from you;
and my dear friend, my confidante,
let all that was beautiful in this life, lord,
come alive again as I sing for you!

When I asked, “What’s this called?”
Someone told me this is rose – but a wild one.

Oh – a rose, it’s always beautiful
Wow – let me enjoy its beauty.

I go to the tree, and look for the flowers
And suddenly I saw the leaves and the thorns.

Aren’t these also beautiful!
Or they’re more beautiful than the rose.
I’ve never thought in this way.

So now I look closer and closer
Which one is beautiful.

Is it the whole combination
Or the individuals.

I look into the rose first.
And I look into this deeply.

It’s the bud, the petals and the bee on it.
And another closer look.
Which is beautiful ?
Suddenly there is nothing
except the rose
– no beauty, no ugliness
Nothing but the flower.

Uh! Not even the flower.
There is something there,
Which I’ve known as a flower
And which once I knew as beautiful.
But now there is nothing there.

What about the leaves and thorns?
These are also there.
As good and bad as the rose
Same.
Nothing is there.

But the whole is there.

Isn’t it the same around.
I saw around.
Something or the other these are called.
Road, brick, house, cars.

The whole is there.

Is it as beautiful as our first sight?
Or is it deriving pleasure through innocent fight?
Is it as serene and pure as morning dew?
Or is it closing our eyes and instantly visiting places new?

Is it the pain experienced in our first fall?
Or is it the adventure of walking the first step supported by the wall
Is it like the tears to go to school on day one?
Or is it like the fear of punishment as the teachers summon?

Is it the agony of the first failure?
Or is it a jamboree for a victory assured?
Is it like the excitement of sowing seeds?
Or is it as curious as watching it grow at a high speed?

Is it comatose like the adolescent crush?
Or is it like the hundreds of dream we entrust?
Is it the solace under the shade of mother?
Or is it the feeling of saying, “I’m there for you forever”

Is it a lonely loiters around the hostel corridor?
Or is it like the permission after an earnest implore?
Is it like running the way back home on every vacation?
Or is it the hope of pioneering at least one resolution?

Is it as complicated as finding true love?
Or is it the pain of a broken heart addressed by a cigarette puff?
Is it the fresh smell of the wet earth?
Or is it later lamenting for misunderstanding someone’s true worth?

Is it enjoying soft music on a candle-light dinner?
Or is it getting lost in one’s eyes and returning no sooner?
Is it like researching on tricks to convincingly lie?
Or is it the uncontrolled tears when friends say goodbye?

Is it like shopping impulsively and buying everything visible with the first salary?
Or is it the feeling of responsibility while growing up and starting a family?
Is it as pure and tender as the touch of an infant?
Or is it like the confidence to confide mistakes being blatant?

Is like watching ones like me grow?
Or is it the relief of saving a life from inferno?
Is it spending the whole life as it is?
Or is it repenting at the end for the works that we never did?

Is it just the pleasure of being ordinary?
Or is it grumbling at the end of spending two-third of the life amidst worry?
Is it like watching the eyes of those dearest being content?
Or is it accepting defeat and saying, “fate never allowed me to be a person of substance”

Is it helping the one in jeopardy?
Or is it reaching out to support to absolve fights, the only remedy?
Is it like giving food to those who starve?
Or is it voicing the protest against hypocrisy so sharp?

Is it like bringing smiles to the down-trodden?
Or is it advising the clueless not to follow the path forbidden?
Is it like standing out amongst the ordinary?
Or is it watching smiles and barriers fall in incognito more satisfactory?

What’s that takes a full life for finding its definition?
What is it that’s difficult to find but is everyone’s aspiration?
Is it called HAPPINESS?
Or is it walking the long road of life and in the end looking back
to confront the truth that it was rather a pursuit of happiness?

I’ll hover throughout the night
Keeping my palm on your palm.
Giving up all calculations
With leaf and with star
We’ll spend an oyster-life.

Pearl like white foam will condense.
Bright day will come out from the mist
Suddenly, getting a single penny or two
Poor children will present us a bright smile.
Now we’ll spend a bright oyster-life.

In the clear sky of the mountain
Very bright stars will come out.
Not with flowers
But by collecting leaves from the ground
We’ll pray to the jungle-goddess.
Thus we’ll spend a sacred oyster-life.

A red rose blooming in the garden
Other trees, clapping their leaves,
Congratulating her. Now please come,
we’ll spend a rosy oyster-life.

If anybody recognizes us
I’ll present them a flower from my poetry books.
Oh! Look at the sun-yolk in the eastern sky.
With the sacred Gayatri-mantra
Now, let us spend a holy oyster-life.

This winter, not with any poppy leaf or rose
I’ll hibernate with you, only with you, butterfly.
Now, let us spend a drowsy oyster-life.

Two lives will unite into one
In the tranquil moonlit night
We’ll fly in the sky, where
The moon and cloud will fight.

Let a bird build her nest
Let a bee build a hive
Let us dissolve all disputes
Let us spend an oyster-life.