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A lonely woman near a window,
looks after the sun under the shadow.
Her whisper becomes a cloud.
A cloud painted into the sky,
created by the hand of God,
designed by my mind.
A beautiful woman is a wind,
which touches deeply my eyes.
Melancholy


This land of soft stones and olive trees
Welcomes me,

But I dream of Nordic earth with
Frost and obstinate granite.

And I ask myself, why is it so difficult
For me to forget you?
I know I am not in love with you.
But I also know
That you are everything
I have ever looked for
In another person,
And everything I hope to find
Again some day.
Just not you.
It really is a strange thing.
Radheshyam

ninety years
and hasn't won one transaction.

He has lost each and every dealing

failed business
lost job
broken family

down in everything

smiled upon only in mocking
looked upon only with pity
befriended only to be exploited

poor in maths
always ended up on the wrong side of measurement

fool in love
her woman bore the child of another

unskilled in societal ways
cursed by one and all

and to top it all
he wasn't clever enough to know
why it were so
he wanted to reach out to everyone
but none could reach out to him.

Radheshyam
named after god
but never someone's god

ninety years of being a loser
he doesn't feel.

The stray animals and birds love him much.

He feeds them,
they repay with love.
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