When the whole world shouts,
It remains silent.
And when it shouts,
Makes the world silent.

Known as the "Son Of Universe",
But still greater than any verse.

Someone who sleeps over it,
Is a cloud, finding someone, who never rests.

Who never rests.
Is a mother,
Singing a lullaby to her child,
In the nights of Summer,
And the winters are mild.

Mild winters turn up the eyes,
Up to where the clouds lie.

It is a Pink Sky.

Day bows down, when it arrives.
It goes down, when day arrives.

Neither you can change it,
Nor can I,
But all to do with it,
Is just to see with your eye.

It's real face is neither the darkness,
Nor the light.

Just things to see,
As it is The Night.

A refreshing wind blowing in those times,
When Sun was unable to yield sunshine.

A sweet fragrance of a flower,
Along with wind, gave me power.

Darkness in those times, was not worse than light,
As it also puts efforts to prop me on delight.

Therefore, wind, fragrance and darkness,
Always made me glad in aloneness.

Memories got refreshed,
Agonies got depressed.

Agony for the time I left,
A very  sweet friend that I met.

After years returning to Chicago,
Felt a moment with glee ago.

Returned, memories got refreshed up,
When he handed me a tea cup.