My eyes haven’t become glass balls br They well; when they see dolour br Of deprived churls; blood curdles br Somewhere deep from the entrails br Bursts out aloud, a painful shrill br People sneer; call me a fool br “This world you can never overhaul br Reconcile! Mingle with evil br Learn the art of survival” br These are morals from grass blades br With winds in tune they waggle br But I wish I live like lotus br Born and dwell in filthy pool br I still fight the surrounding foulbr br sathya narayanabr br