XXXI
My daily bread is thy mercy, I aspire not for more
These old rags are enough for covering my nudity
I am comfortable on this bed of earth under the sky
The bliss of being in your peripheral is my luxury
XXXII
When rainbows bloom below the dark clouds
My soul begins to open it’s peacock feathers
Down on the earth, below the clouds of sorrows
That spreads black shadows across life’s skies
XXXIII
You stay mixed up in the crowd unrecognised
My poor eyes tired searching you everywhere
Among the guests or among the beggars outside
You are there watching me musingly in disguise
XXXIV
When the drought drains the last drop of hope
And the earth yeaming for a drop of bliss from thy sky
A cool downpour revitalises the dead limbs of life
And like a phoenix begins to rise above the tomb
XXXV
The drizzle slowly revamps into a lusty thunderstorm
Shaking and soaking and blowing up the attire
That covers the nature maid’s naked mortals
Rousing human desire to live and enjoy thy gifts
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