Poems

Going

Going is not a parting – an ending,
going is not a tearing,
a tear-soaked night.
My goodbye will hold so much of me
while I’m gone.
 
I know everyone has to bow down to the cruel truth –
life is beautiful,
the sky and the air, the mountains and the sea,
all the green of nature is beautiful
and life most beautiful of all,
but can you live forever?
The shehnai plays you out,
the palki waits by the door.
Look at this beautiful world:
I was alive.
We all leave with a deep sigh,
wherever we go next.
Suddenly a strange bird cries
and startles me.
Is this the end of life?
Everyone will go like this, will have to go…