With this breeze,
With this season
Of love,
Love,
Take me to Your winged charms,
With this album of songs,
As ever Brightened, as a sky of a morn,
Morn,
Take me where I was born,
To that Gandharaj tree,
That field of poesy,
That lotus pond,
Take me there,
As a whiff of air.
Monday, November 11, 2013
With this breeze, with this season of love,
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The State Funeral
At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut, She could not have spoken for The rare award, The police have done the th...
-
That boat of Madhu the boatman Is left tied at the ghat of Rajganj No one is taking it As it is filled with jute raw; If they would give... -
At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut, She could not have spoken for The rare award, The police have done the th... -
What had made Brahm to compose Such a tune, with such poise? What comforting idea made him To put music into such a rhythm? What inexpre...
No comments:
Post a Comment