Now, how many are there
Brooding over a glass of wine?
Or how many who seek delight
In an idle bout of tears?
The elusive bliss always slips-
Then the glass breaks,
And tears idle leave a trail.
Haven’t we thought
Bliss it would be to dead on that dawn
That will bring miseries new!
Bravehearts are just a couple of us,
We are but simple and weak men.
Yes, life’s a blessing to live
When life delivers that urge,
When light outweighs the gloom.
Alas! How often is it thus!
-18\99,Calcutta-63