I will not show my wounds br As you have poo pooed them not just once! br My life too extracts a price. br And I alone shall pay it. br A heap of pain may squeeze me for long br But I will never let you know them br For you are much disinterested br In all those mutterings... br br I see nothing hitting my daily bread br But it turns bitter in taste br Or a newer fever grips my palate! br Am I drawing the conflicts of a season br And setting the mind up on a mound br Of scarce greenery and much of brown stones? br A half naked moon may wipe out my tears. br But she is half naked, you see! br br Time has ever ruthlessly caused discomfort br And freedom of the mind is an Utopia. br I too wish for a soul singing in a withering tone br Till the delusion of eternity fades out. br The departing stars are yellow and far br I see my boyhood youthful pride dying with them. br Your frowns and cold looks have been br A silencer for my lost spring, I swear. br br Someone was knocking at the door I thought br But it was the naughty wind in a wrong gesture! br The footsteps heard have stopped for ever br And the desertion looks imminent br But I will not show my wounds br As you have termed them as the scars of unknown fears. br My mind dives into a pool br In the abyss of which my sleep is asleep. br br The heart with contents of sorrow may re-beat br And it may fill up the nothingness with a few sighs br I perceive another spring should have been there br For my other seasons have been disguised very often! br In the orchard of my yesterdays. br I want to chase a butterfly in mad flutter br Along the corridors of the life left over br Shall I walk with my half naked moon otherwise?br br M.