I sowed a seed in the meadow,

between the hills and amongst the woods.

Starry night, with the daughter of the widow,

watered every pulse and there I stood.


My life encompassed within that,

austere it was–lively and hale;

romanced with tufts and the wild weeds,

when I slept, in the vale.


Senescent days and I were only left

besides teasing the immortal regrets,

shadows of the tree everywhere—impotent rays theft.

Love deeply and pain you beget!


Glowed the forest when I smoked

lost was a seed already–with a desire.

If they found it, their life will be choked

and every remaining day on a fire.


–Rozesh Gautam