Love

"People become angry,

People exhibit sulks,

People show pride in love

In the hope of achievement.

People yearn in love,

People write poetry

To finally own

The separation.

People love the speed of life,

One who comes,

She becomes the love,

And who doesn't come

Becomes a forgettable road.

But I,

Yes, I can neither spare

The rain of the past

Nor the winter of the present.

At times, the sari of rain

Brings the fragrance of winter,

And at times, the shining vermilion on winter's forehead brings the red color

Of rain's lips

In the cottage of my written book."