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Donall Dempsey Aug 2018
FOR WHAT ARE WORDS WORTH

I wandered lonely
through a crowd

lost to myself now
that I'd lost you

gathering even your footsteps
peeling your shadow from my wall

remembering that lost last kiss
did it have to end like this

"...beside the lake, beneath the trees....
...when all at once I saw a...."

host of saffroned monks
their robes " ...fluttering and dancing

in the breeze..." and behind them
bunches and bunches  of daffodils

outside a florist
chanting Hare Krishna

in all their yellow voices
delighting in their day

and for a second I
forgot my pain

dancing across a zebra crossing
with an old old woman and

a little
yapping dog.
As the sweet sweat of roses in a still,
As that which from chafed musk-cats’ pores doth trill,
As the almighty balm of th’ early East,
Such are the sweat drops of my mistress’ breast,
And on her brow her skin such lustre sets,
They seem no sweat drops, but pearl coronets.
Rank sweaty froth thy Mistress’s brow defiles,
Like spermatic issue of ripe menstruous boils,
Or like the ****, which, by need’s lawless law
Enforced, Sanserra’s starved men did draw
From parboiled shoes and boots, and all the rest
Which were with any sovereigne fatness blest,
And like vile lying stones in saffroned tin,
Or warts, or weals, they hang upon her skin.
Round as the world’s her head, on every side,
Like to the fatal ball which fell on Ide,

Or that whereof God had such jealousy,
As, for the ravishing thereof we die.
Thy head is like a rough-hewn statue of jet,
Where marks for eyes, nose, mouth, are yet scarce set;
Like the first Chaos, or flat-seeming face
Of Cynthia, when th’ earth’s shadows her embrace.
Like Proserpine’s white beauty-keeping chest,
Or Jove’s best fortunes urn, is her fair breast.
Thine’s like worm-eaten trunks, clothed in seals’ skin,
Or grave, that’s dust without, and stink within.
And like that slender stalk, at whose end stands
The woodbine quivering, are her arms and hands.
Like rough barked elm-boughs, or the russet skin
Of men late scourged for madness, or for sin,
Like sun-parched quarters on the city gate,
Such is thy tanned skin’s lamentable state.
And like a bunch of ragged carrots stand
The short swol’n fingers of thy gouty hand.
Then like the Chimic’s masculine equal fire,
Which in the Lymbecks warm womb doth inspire
Into th’ earth’s worthless dirt a soul of gold,
Such cherishing heat her best loved part doth hold.
Thine’s like the dread mouth of a fired gun,
Or like hot liquid metals newly run
Into clay moulds, or like to that Etna
Where round about the grass is burnt away.
Are not your kisses then as filthy, and more,
As a worm ******* an envenomed sore?
Doth not thy feareful hand in feeling quake,
As one which gath’ring flowers still fears a snake?
Is not your last act harsh, and violent,
As when a plough a stony ground doth rent?
So kiss good turtles, so devoutly nice
Are priests in handling reverent sacrifice,
And such in searching wounds the surgeon is
As we, when we embrace, or touch, or kiss.
Leave her, and I will leave comparing thus,
She, and comparisons are odious.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

… but no, not today, today, I ask
new mercies, and
I recall, that's on auto. Hapsthappeneverday kinda thing.
Time after time.
That is a miracle, time.

Really smart
people, that class that feels included in the
we, the
people, politico-intellect-ism trend sect,
they think the math is there to prove

time is
what clocks do, (Royal Institute Youtube watch it)
                                                  
that we,
that ain't me, ye see, I got

removed far enough
to see the blurry
next res
bigger picture more pixels than an eye is said able to see

So for everlasting ideas,
like hell and
heaven,  

the re act
to my act is the power
to act. Eternal motion as perpetual
as can be imagined by mortals, for sure.

Get it together or you leave a huge hole in the fabric of reality JBP

play the role your hand finds dealt,
your special way,
words count inbetween the sayer/hearer
the idle wons are wins not worth the weight, don't fight
the value system that makes life spirial,
swirl of a wand, mathematically
bowing to magi
Fibbo, go viral
with my wind.

this is your life role,
the one in eight billion role.
the star of the show as the hero of hormone wars.
it's all in your head,

how did it *** there, howditgit
this way
this is crazy. No, you never saw crazy, old dude.

Ya had yo'own knows sparkin' at the grindstone,

whet the edge,
or put to more labor..

removed
far enough from this world

my bubble
is in it not of it,
… since 1970. No ****. Outathis world…

Crazy was the melding  from the sixties to…

I was thinking, to about the mid-eighties, but
now,
you and I, we travelled to the beat of several
different drums.
Olde dude,

If you put your nose to the grind, ******
you may have missed,
in fifty years,
more
than you imagined, now, is a new day time.

Some seed never sown back when, can be sown and
grown right,
now.
That's good.
I'd say some words I've helped be heard have

made the world some better'nitwas when we stopped.

time to roll.

Sisyphus, right. 'Never missed a trick time
it takes to roll the rock up,
then in between tick time
to roll the rock up,

onus minus the roll down, the unshackled wireless
inbetween shameless blameless
imagine
happy ever after…
How?
Pretend, the end.

Push, happy as hell.
tick, time
to roll the rock up,

Incorrectness of value of value from the gitgo,
like buttoning your shirt wrong from the first button,
as soon as you fix it, it's fixed.

Nothin' you can do?
Do nothin'.

Think, Sisyphus, happy

Happy he's not in that time we are so removed from
now
slow and steady kinda wins the race, she said that,

Ben or me? Where does the thread un-ravel?

Extended time model, Rogan in the back ground,
what myth has the fear factor guy,
a little short power-lifter-kick boxer guy,
some smart, quick of wit, a hunter,

who was asked, in Thailand,
Have you seen the true beauty of the elephant?
I was asked that, in Thailand,
by a saffroned monk at a kickboxing match
in the jungle in 1968.
Synchroni-city or what?

Who could steer it's  hearing
by a clock and fail

to hear the rhythm of the rock rolling down the hill,
inbetween
the tick…

Sisyphus says time is more effective,

if-ity-ish when,
and only then, when ticks hapt to be

at the very point of return
time
the roll back
no rush, no dread no worry, imagine

time ticks at the sharpest point of the story
at the very very very tippy top
point in time

defining you.
Shame, sticks to you like tar.
Marilyn and Monica and Marla and all

Fame to blame, to shame for being  a believer that
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

to ignor my own ignorance and innocence
of ideas that possessed
fools

A murderous assault on your attention span,
musicals, those people really live near enough my bubble,
that I can find
ripples

from decades I missed, this is 2018, how can it get better?

The grand wizard cat. pop. elephants are so sweet,
dam,
rewound. Really,
cool, I know what he says next, it's funny before it's funny.

Today is a real good day to get away. Binging Rogan,
testing a mystery fruct-ification
of a single seed from
a sack 'shake.

----
As you move forward in time how do you measure

progress
lo-res thinking, 72 dpi 1984 Macintosh. Hello

now there is reality at the speed of thought, imagine

this was once the speed of thought.

===
why are you in pain? Do you know any lies you believe?
Do you
urge others to suspend their un-belief
to hear you think

listen
ridiculously (is that a good word)

listen, people become interesting, from a distance,
thank you,
I'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Earlier on the Sisyphus Happy channel
Ankit Bhardwaj Mar 2018
I live in a nation where the cow is worshipped,
and there is no king regnant,
but it’s funny, how the cow feast on crap,
and the farmer becomes a peasant.

I live in a nation of aye men,
who say aye to a baloney,
of media which protects the cow,
but let the peasant starve slowly.

I watch daily, the television debates,
where logic is razored by bigotry,
and no talks about the peasant,
gagged into silence by the authority.

I witness a bathtub getting sensationalized
when a mid-aged celebrity died,
the debt he’d laden of the dried crop,
no rain never did the sky cry.

He later worked as an indentured laborer,
for a landlord who drinks the cow’s ****,
as a saffroned monk says it’s healthy,
way to the eternal bliss.

A student who sloganed for freedom
from the maw of poverty.
My media says he is a traitor,
and so is the entire university.

At least, let’s agree to disagree,
that is essential to a republic,
let freedom of speech not be seldom,
and never shall it cease to exist.

The peasant must die soon,
and no more shall he crouch in dread,
may someday he incarnate as a cow,
roams free on the city streets, and feast on free bread.
Ken Pepiton May 2024
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

… but no, not today, today, I ask
new mercies, and
I recall, that's on auto.
Hapst'happeneverday kinda thing.
Time after time.
That is a miracle, time.

Really smart
people, that class that feels included
in the
we, the people,
politico-intellect-ism trend sect,
they think the math is there to prove
right to govern life's use, to insure
future wars have enough infantry.

Lead us away from value testing.
Teach life, teach consequence
with reward for second thoughts,
about why life is sacrifice,
given a random chance
to learn time is
what clocks do, (Royal Institute Youtube watch it)
                                                  
that we,
that ain't me, ye see, I got

removed far enough
to see the blurry
next res
bigger picture more pixels than an eye
is said supposed able to see

So for everlasting ideas,
like hell and
heaven,  

the re act
to my act is the power
to act. Eternal motion as perpetual
as can be imagined by mortals, for sure.

"Get it together or you leave a huge hole
in the fabric of reality" JBP once said

play the role your hand finds dealt,
your special way,
words count
inbetween the sayer/hearer
the idle wons are wins not worth the weight, don't fight
the value system that makes life spirial,
swirl of a wand, mathematically
bowing to magi
Fibbo, go viral
with my wind… nacci

this is your life role,
the one in eight billion role.
the star of the show as the hero
of hormone wars.
it's all
in your head, and gut and glands

how did it *** there, howditgit
this way
this is crazy.
No, you never saw crazy, old dude.
says future me to then me, back when…
Ya had yo'own knows sparkin' at the grindstone,

whet the edge,
or put to more labor..

removed
far enough from this world

my bubble
is in it not of it,
… since 1970. No ****. Outathis world…

Crazy was the melding  from the sixties to…

I was thinking, to about the mid-eighties, but
now,
you and I, we travelled
to the beat of several
different drums.
Olde riders
through the storms, all the make believe
historical excuses used to justify the cost
of war readiness implanted in children,

noble ways to die
for the truth we believe, true,
and those who do not, we live to ****.

If you put your nose to the grind,
******, you may have missed,
in fifty years, more
than you imagined, now,
is a new day time.
May 2024 Earth.

Some seed never sown back when,
can be sown and
grown right,
now.
That's good.
I'd say some words I've helped be heard have

made the world some better'nitwas
when we stopped.

time to roll.
Need some help?

Sisyphus, right.

'Never missed a trick time
it takes
to roll the rock up,
then in between tick time
to roll the rock up,
- as we meander down the ramp
onus minus
the stroll down, in
the unshackled wireless
inbetween shameless blameless
imagined-reified whatifery
happy ever after…
How?
Pretend, the end.

Push, happy as hell.
tick, time
to roll the rock up,

Incorrectness of value
of value
from the gitgo,
like buttoning your shirt wrong
from the first button,
as soon as you fix it,
it's fixed.

Nothin' you can do?
Do nothin'.

Think, Sisyphus, happy

Happy he's not
in that time we are so removed from
now
slow and steady kinda wins the race,
she said that, to

Ben or me? Where does the thread un-ravel?

Extended time model, Rogan
in the back ground,
what myth has the fear factor guy,
a little short power-lifter-kick boxer guy,
become some smart, quick of wit, a hunter,
hero, one of the thousand,
who was asked,
in Thailand,
Have you seen the true beauty
of the elephant?

Of course,
I was asked that, in Thailand,
by a saffroned monk
at a kickboxing match
in the jungle
in 1968.
Synchroni-city or what?

Who could steer it's  hearing
by a clock and fail

to hear the rhythm
of the rock rolling down the hill,
inbetween
the tick…

Sisyphus says time is more effective,

if-ity-ish when,
and only then,
when ticks hapt to be

at the very point of return
time
the roll back
no rush, no dread no worry, imagine

time ticks at the sharpest point of the story
at the very very very tippy top
point in time

defining you.
Shame, sticks to you like tar.
Marilyn and Monica and Marla and all

Fame to blame, to shame
for being  a believer that
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

to ignor my own ignorance and innocence
of ideas that possessed
fools - to teach kids
at Saturday goy kivas, yes.
Like Sabbath school, for gentile kids.
Fourteen cents, for the movie, news and cartoon
dime for treats,
like two Milky Ways, or a bag of real butter popcorn,
and a penny change to toss
in a wisher well
on the way home,
if we pass the old jail,
or a Bazooka,
penny bubble gum...
-----------
A murderous assault
on your attention span,
sit tight and watch the feature
musicals, those people really live
near enough my bubble,
that I can find
ripples

from decades I missed, this is 2018,
how can it get better?

The grand wizard cat. pop.
Elephants are so sweet,
dam,
rewound. Really,
cool, I know what he says next, it's funny before it's funny.

Today is a real good day
to get away. Binging Rogan,
testing a mystery fruct-ification
of a single seed from
a sack o' shake.

----
As you move forward
in time how do you measure
progress
lo-res thinking, 72 dpi 1984 Macintosh. Hello
back a decade,
DEC VAX
holding 27 printed circuit boards,
not chips, 27 to make one CPU,
not 16 bit compatible, 32 bit
turbo fast time shared
million dollar baby,
circa 1970...

now there is reality
at the speed
of thought, imagine

this was once the speed of thought.
card read
thunk
Mimesis conserved conformity... punch
===
why are you in pain?
Do you know any lies you believe?
Do you
urge others
to suspend their un-belief
to hear you think

listen
nidiculously
(is that a good word, yes)
free form floating helpless, us,
listen, people become interesting,
from a distance,
thank you,
I'''''''''''''''''''' we may all live
in interesting times. No resupply ship
was ever coming, we share the air or die.
Started in 2018, picked at since and let be what it seems today// alienating
or big hug envelopment reevaluating evolunteerism in will worship science.
Donall Dempsey Aug 2019
FOR WHAT ARE WORDS WORTH?

I wandered lonely
through a crowd

lost to myself now
that I'd lost you

gathering even your footsteps
peeling your shadow from my wall

remembering that lost last kiss
did it have to end like this

"...beside the lake, beneath the trees....
...when all at once I saw a...."

host of saffroned monks
their robes " ...fluttering and dancing

in the breeze..." and behind them
bunches and bunches  of daffodils

outside a florist
chanting Hare Krishna

in all their yellow voices
delighting in their day

and for a second I
forgot my pain

dancing across a zebra crossing
with an old old woman and

a little
yapping dog.
Like sparkling water, your breath punctuates every gulp—
Sharp and cold, I come back for more,
At your behest—like saffroned ice cubes on the eyelids.
A sober delight.

Scrubbing the grout in between the tiles with black salts,
Pale like drying sunscreen, piercing my palate with cedar—
Where did the subtlety go?
The Cosmos—Short Fiction
Epic Poetical Sep 2024
I.
On that divine-like hands and laps of thine, my grandmother, each moment I embraced the new learnings.

Well, in that tranquil Spring night when the wave of stars washed away my eyes, I cried for them to have in the small hands of mine. Since then, I learnt to cry.

In order to soothe my longing cry, thou hast sung me the rhyming lullaby and spreaded the formless form of smile on my face. Since then, I learnt to smile.

At that cooing rhythm of thy song; thou hast energetically swung me high and low in the air, whilst my body seems to have lost its weight so light. Since then, I learnt to get thrilled by the melody of song.

A feeling of overflowing on an edge of the wind has brought the word of excitement to my unawake mouth, ehh.. since then, I learnt to speak a word.

That morning, Aye, drunk by the golden dawn, the wave of my eyes reached to the falling leave at the distant height. The very curiosity to catch hold of it has burnt my little heart. Since then, I learnt to curious about the things.

Slipping away from thy hand, I ran to catch the falling leave. But O fie, I couldnst catch it! I followed its flight —but the wind took it farther away. My eyes couldnst reach to it anymore, as it gradually disappeared at invisible sight. Since then, I learnt to walk.

Thou art my model, my grandmother! These all childly learnings alighted from that holy-like hands and laps of thine. I regard thee.

II.
I extend the words from that little heart of mine— and that's my deepest Adulation to thee, my beloved parents!

I know not how I've wandered upon the Mesh of age to reach this mile of oldness— nor dost I know how I've rushed on over the trouble obstacles I encountered each age.

Such little strange tale of mine evolved from thy ***** hands, my beloved parents!

In the kingly and queenly world of thine, I expanded on the rhythm of an ineffable joyance. I know not the bound— but surely I cherished the flower and its hidden honey thou hast bestowed upon me, from that holy adornment of thy hearts.

Thou hast attained all my childly cravings and worn a garland of smile to this sullen face of mine.

Thou hast taken care of me from all sorts of ailings. Thou hast given me the warm garments and never let my body ailed by the cold breeze in Winter and tanned by the barnstorming heat in Summer.

Mother, when the hunger ailed my stomach, I spelt out thy name and cried
In dissonant pitch.Thou hast given me a plate of rice. In the amidst of night when the silence has spreaded its wings, the unrestrained thirst parched up my throat. I awoke thee— so thou hast given me a cup of water to quench my thirst.

Father, the most I must not forget about thee is thou hast shaded the blood and dropped down the endless sweat onto the earthly mud to give me this excess of life.

I'm grateful to both of thee, my beloved parents! Without both of thy presence,
I would not have made my life so far and so long. I regard thee.    

III.
Mother, I've cried out the mighty tears
For one thing— and that's the signet ring.

I cried all the days and all the nights for that. I
Even refused to take the meals thou

Hast given to me from thy queenly hand.
Thou hast bought me the little play toy—

But fie, couldn't bring the harmony to these dissonant eyes of mine! The tears

Unseemly overflowed on its expanding Despair. I was a small and innocent kid,

My mother, as I saw that signet ring Glitter bright on the man's finger, it took

My eyes' captive  away and made me
Oozed upon the mesh of longingness.

By then, I witnessed the tears in my eyes.
I knew not how to extinguish this burning

Agony of my heart— it seemed more Intense as the days passed. All of my

Energies lost to pale weakness. I seem To have had sleepless nights; tossing

And turning on the bed, overshadowed
By the ailing insomnia. I only wished to

Have it on one of my fingers, bright and Illuminating grace like a blue diamond.

It was thy love, at last, thou Hast given it to me on the final day

And cured the very tears of craving. I Heaved a sigh of relief since then.

IV.
Such a blesseth land, have I ever taken my refuge!
Such a blesseth land, is only my century-long home!

Thou art my home for the generation long, my beloved Motherland, how lovely thou art! Thou hast given me a fine place here to take a long and joyant abide.

I took the deepest privilege to spend my life here, embracing the endless blessings of no bound thou hast bestowed upon me. The joy of course, I have cherished a fragrance of this very land, in an ineffable bound of pride.

All that hush and composed mountains that weave the picturesque sight; all that rich and benevolent water that evokes the sweet taste like that of honey; and all that earthly and never-fading mud that upholdest the living beings. O, I never knew I was used to them! Such is my luck!

My life flowers bright here upon thy heavenly garden; and now I'm able to create the beauty of my own within and out like Camellia. I wish my life had no bound and all my body and limbs were immortal, I would heave infinite steps of age, century after century, turning olds into new...

All that thou hast dispensed me doth not belong to me, but I taketh it as holy blessing. Thou hast given me all thy shelters and stood before me shameless and bare. In fact, thou hast protected me from all trouble obstacles of sorts, such is thy holy grace, My beloved motherland!


Such a blesseth land, have I ever taken my refuge!
Such a blesseth land, is only my century-long home!

I am deepened down into the bottomless pride, for I am born to this land of kingly harmony. It's thy pleasure that indeed, I should be grateful to thee, for thou hast  taken care of me till this age far. Such is my fortune!

What knowest others of thee? What knowest others the taste of that golden honey, so-thickly ebbs out of thy ***** heart that seems ineffable.

For me, thou art all that higher than the universe; and there's no above thee, such is thy strength! Thy love is an unattainable worth. I canst return thy love even though my life extend a hundred decades long.

It's indeed the sin to step upon the holy-like body of thine; but thou art receptive by nature, and such is thy holy grace; my beloved motherland, thou hast carried me these long years bearing all sorts of weariness.

Such a blesseth land, have I ever taken my refuge!
Such a blesseth land, is only my century-long home!

V.
Mother, the Emblem of love
A residence of the eternal glory
A supreme fragrance, and the Utopian idealist
Gifted one
Strong existentialist
beneath the
cosmology

O, the incumbent mother!
Thou art an antidote to our
daily miseries—
and a song to our
timeless euphoria
We art blessed
under thy cosmic arms

It is said that thou
hast attained
a realm of love— the unattainable pinnacle
Where we imbibe
the nectar of happiness
Thou art
the ethereal guardian,
A mirror-image to celestial soul
Where we art thy shadows,
The shadows thou uphold'st

Hiding tears behind
The eyelashes,
Putting a facade of smile,
Thou equipped
Us with love and care
Like the sun nourishing sunflower

O, the selfless existence!
A remnant of the pre-existed mother-
The ''Goddess Devi''
We art grateful to thee,
For always taking care of us
Without thou, there is no concept of Existence
(Everything is meaningless)
              
VI.
In this very fragrant and heavenly garden of thine, my noble king, I am one of the blooming flowers.
                      
Indeed, I had luck to be grown upon thy garden; and I never knew I would grow rich in fragrance, it's only the blessing thou hast bestowed upon me as a century-long gift.
                      
All that I am embracing is none other than the grace of light that showers richly from thy own kingly heart, and it knows no bounds.
                      
This small garden of thine, for which thou hast immense love, lies at one periphery of thy heart.
                        
Thou hast carried it against all the trouble storms and protected these long years. Each day, thou hast tirelessly worked to give the very harmony to this garden of thine.

That's how all the flowers have come to bloom of their own each, so bright and aromatic.

As the very petals of mine have touched
Thy majestic hands, it giveth the endless birth of pride to my heart.

How fortunate am I to be grown
Upon this garden of thine!

Each morning, I awaken not just to bloom  but to offer thee my fragrance in humble devotion, for thy timeless love and care.

VII.
At this age of thy oldness, my grandfather, as I touch thy supreme hands, these very intengible eyes of my heart break down in tears of adoration.

It's because of thy grandfatherly love and contributions I am offering the words to thee. Those words are of my heart and have been hidden and unslipped out at the edge of my lips to this very day.

Knowest thou the time before the break of vergin dawn....

Getting up early as 4 in the morning, walking upon the harsh meadow enshrouded by the thick dew, and getting the water from the distant away, bearing the cold touch of winter breeze.
Two jerkins full of water weighing thy hands heavy, no torch but walking under the grace of rich moonlight.

Ah, had it been today, I would've at least
helped thee carry one.

Boiling the water warm for our washing,
Cooking the rather-delicious breakfast for us, helping us wear the gho neat and clean, and reaching us all the way to the school on foot.

Ah, had it been today, I would've at least walked the school by myself.

Celebrating the pain of love within like a man of supremety, all the days tirelessly sweating and soaking in other's field, and earning the petty amount of ransom for our timely welfare and school stationaries.

Ah, had it been today, I would've at least worked by myself and taken care of my school needs.

Bearing the body heavy with tiredness, yet coming till the school entrance to get us. Wearing the torn jacket, folding the wounded arms tight, and waiting all alone at the gate thro' the passage of time, till the school hour over.

Ah, had it been today, I would've at least returned home by myself.

I wonder how thou hast passed half of thy life with us, my grandfather! Taking care of us all day and all night
living in the small and ill- thatched camp wast challenging for thee.

It's by virtue of thy all-day and all-night presence, we've grown healthy and untroubled to this day.

 VIII.
In this fragile land abidest thy coy footprints unwithered; and it seems that the sweat thou hast droppeth down, I would still find there. I could recall thy wounded hands healed by the painful blisters.
Each day toiling in the field; ploughing beneath the scorching sun, cutting down the grass and feeding the herd of cattle, and walking towards the moorish hill in search of the firewood. Alas!  No slippers on feet yet enduring the harsh sting of nettle. Indeed, thou hast never failed carrying out thy duties. Thou hast turneth up each moment wast special for thee.
In thine eyes I've grown this age. I shared my love and joy with thee and simultaneously, I learnt to carry out all the external work and withstand the pain. Although I've come across the endurance, thy continues guidance hast shaped my each learning.
Thou hast made me a master at rather young age. I would regard thy fatherly companionship and mastership. Today, I could see change in thee. The weight of years hast overshadowed thy wandering age but the fire within, thou keepest bright and unfade in thy heart.
That's why I still see thee labouring at this age— despite thy oldness. All that I'm living today is because of thy endless hardwork and tenacity.

 IX.
The only glory heaven that has ever revealed to my eyes is thee, my dear patria! How could I forget thee in the passage of time!

Thou art mine friendly companion and all that infinite memories, I have in one store of my heart today, have bent forth since my childhood alongsides thy endless play, my dear patria! How could I forget thee in the passage of time!

I know, when the time has held my feet, I left thee in speechless grief for the months long. But surely I mourned for that, as it was my folly, my dear patria! How could I forget thee in the passage of time!

Over the steady heave of months, the
uneasy flake enshrouded the terrains of mine heart, often troubling me to weave upon the mesh of time. Thy mystic love now and then ebbed my being in silent utterance.

All that pictures gleamed before my eyes were of the fragile land where I reside, the graceful mountains and gorges that often caught my gaze, and the buoyant dwellers. Not only that, the tastes of those fruits and the clean water have haunted my taste bud.

And now all of my agonies have settled calm, for I'm back and shalt lose myself in thy majesty, my dear patria! How could I forget thee in the passage of time!

 X.
In thine sweet farewell, my beloved teachers, my eyes burst out the tears in silent grief— for our years of flowery union in the school have faded with the passage of time.

                          
Our teacher-student love was deeply and utterly rooted under the substratum of hearts. Unseen yet surely a felt relish. We enjoyed the days through learnings and experiences. Together, we rushed against the stony obstacles and vicissitudes of life and thrived under the gracious illumination of education.
                            
Not only that, in our unlawful conducts were thee the masters behind to uphold our immorality and make us grow with rich ornaments of discipline. Thou hast well treated us— indeed good and humane as though we wert thine own sons and daughters.

                              
Thou hast scolded to us at our undone homeworks was varily right on our part, I claim that for otherwise we wouldst not have grown and reaped the sweet fruit of an accademy.

                              
Thus, we shalt regard thy unwavering care and mentorship done to us in all our stay in the school. The unrevealed light of knowledge thou hast revealed in our sky shalt guide us through the passage of our lives. More importantly, the sweet fragrance of love that ever sweetened our lives came fom the garden of thine own hearts, and 'tis going to haunt us here on. I claim that.
        
                                  
With this, I pen off and I wish my verses would reach to thee someday. Fare thee well to all my kingly and queenly teachers and it's uneasy at my heart to          
leave thy kingdom on its lonesome.

 XI.
O monk, the worthiness
of this long-sleeved, wide and dark, saffroned robe. I, the byfarer, ever walk to thy lonely temple to seek blessings from thee. Wouldst thou lead me in? For I've no sins nor scorns in my heart. I've withered the dark hues of sins and scorns to the glanceless colour.
O monk, before thou
leadest me in, let me not forget to bow down my whole body onto thy barefeet. Thou on the edge corner of thine alter hall givest me the warm floor to rest my body. Thou takest out the beads. Ready for chanting prayers and
songs. O monk, shall
I join thee or keep my mouth all shut and tight in silent listening. Ah such is thee and thy costless bliss, love, and nobility are divine attributes that I ever aspire to reach. Thou offerest the millions of butter lamps for me and for all kin beings around and across this din world. Ah when I leave from here, let me not forget to extend my deepest
gratitude alongsides holy
    reverence.

— The End —