Pagli, my love,
hark the loud, hark the proud call...

Poetry is a perennial stream
a poet swims and swims...

The turbulent epoch witnesses
Ramayana in every household...

From the silvery ashes of the
worn-out poetry...

All those who are asleep now
not dead for good...

You never told me aloud
I thought I heard your silence...

Sad at the very pathetic plight!
just in morning comes twilight...

Your kites hovering aloft
beckon my idle one...

You may hail
my free verse...

The fire never waits
for any consent...

Excited feet, instructed feet
tread from the venue to the venue...

Out of the 'Visage-cave'
buzz out a swarm of words...