Rain

The wind,it blomes the clinging clouds
From mountain top to hill
And around one leaf and grain of dust
That once weree laid to still.
The hummid air,it blows my hair
And grey clouds high............
While white ones hug the rocky sheets
With endless tender tone.
The binds fly fall in guts of glue
The clouds their laughter spill
The sun is gone,the curtains drawn
And the wind sings tender still.
Perhaps one day it will be known.
Perhaps it will be shown
Perhaps the days that we see now
Will tell us then somehow
what secret lies in passing time............

A hundred,a thousand years perhaps
may suddenly collapse:
Knowledge betray and memory fail
The world regret and bewail
The ruthless cruelty of passing time.....
A hundred years,a thousand years perhaps
may suddenly dearly group
awaken asleep and open eyes
Everyday sun suddenly surprise
And the world marvel
At the power of passing time
Perhaps we think ,it is us that pass.
And yet we cry-alas!
Too short is this life we are given!
And by hope we are driven..........
Hope for knowledge for all that we have
Tells us not the secret of passing time.......


pushpa