Bubbly branch of tree
First writes a haiku of cups
Then bursts in sonnets

Through my small windows
A tree peeped at the pink grass
Shadows on a glass

A handful of hyacinth from an ocean
Which just you know from where you collected
When you put it into the pockets of my trouser
Blue sky chose to blossom into white flowers

Look at the pink bottle in the red shelf
I have preserved them for my poetry
The key to the bottle is inaccessible to others
As it is protected in my scarlet box of waves
Those pleasure and pains in a tiny bouquet
This morning only I opened the bottle
And to my blue shiver found this line
Poetry is two handfuls of grapevine

Sorry, I no more seek your suns
Nor moons
Yes, your suns I loved very much

Your passionate sun
Around which my planets would run
Your cool moons
Shedding long leaves
On my glistening lagoon
I remember
All my swoons
From wine in your spoon

But your nerves
Went for new curves
It happens
Very often
Our rivers do not like the same course
Especially when you endorse
Flames of passion
And we are rivers

You developed a new craze
In a psychedelic haze
In that crazy spree
You started neglecting me
Initially I got lonely
Missed you terribly
My ocean frozen I was in a depression
Of the morbid flower
In pale blue showers
From the two windows
Morose under compulsion
For many a day, month and year
Irritation in the mug of bear
Tearing my spirit
Pulverizing all my lyrics
Landslide in Mirik

But again all rivers are resilient
If you stop its normal course
It gathers unexpected force
The remorse underlie

I grew seasoned without you
I was out of the bottomless blues
Though could not but reflect on the cues
In the morning dew
And sighed too
But I learned to live agile and alert
Brushing aside the frozen heart
Gave up on hashish
Cleaned the debris
Started looking smart

Now I have travelled a long path
No more remorse no wrath
No smokes of the aftermath
Now I understand
The diamonds of life
Love matters much
Especially in the flowers of touch
But when you ignore
It does not matter
I have got my poems of freedom
Your walls can never ruffle them