Morn comes like elysian pleasure
Swept by the breeze,
Singing songs of deathless gods,
And life flowing without cease,
Morn takes the magical charm
Pure and smokeless,
Casting radhachura dreams
On lazy summer's face.
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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...
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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... -
Once the sculpted face Fell and with it fell Our pride Our demons We made love after that By the sides of our past. (For 'Magp... -
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...
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