Muhammad

When you feel lost and go astray
When boredom crushes you down
Muhammad will show you the way
And spread enjoyment around

The tree

The lonesome, dry tree
Stretching her withered arms
Seems to beckon to me

Words

Do words swim in me or I in them?
Are words the sea and I the fisherman?

Will bridges of understanding be laid?

The thirsty mountains stand dejected
And await the return of the rain
The meandering river itches for love
And flows in introverted solitude
The trees along the banks strain to listen:

Will bridges of understanding be laid?

Irony

They buried him
Beneath the tree
He’d planted previously.
The tree was delighted to
Shake roots with him
And burrow joyfully into
His responsive body.

The hand and the packet

The plump hand handed me
The small-sized,
star-strewn,
blue-coloured packet
Then, the same youthful hand
Put a siver coin on the counter
with the effigy of the president on it.

Time will go on

Whether you’re poor or rich
Young or old

Time will go on

Transcendence

The silence of memory
Is sweeping the swelling waves of time
I am a humble, downcast slave
Caught in encompassing incomprehension:

Words and I

Words trickle
And build a nest
Little by little
In the fore of my chest.

The death of a tycoon

For fifty long, long years
He strained and slaved;
Drudged and struggled;
Slogged and sweated;
Toiled and laboured;
Strived and …. Died.