Standing under the branches I feel the warmth of the hands of a mother Silent like the umbrella, They safeguard me in the times of the heat And in their lap I lie and get golden times.
Feelings are the flock in an enclosure At daybreak, they get freedom to rush out, like water from the channel, To open to satisfy their hunger On the dirt and grass they walk and ear of their choice At dust they have to make their way to home
Peace isn't a tree for which you have to sow some seeds; It's a candle to be lighted through your positive mind and everyone with you will have its light