The Monk

In search of the Spiritual light

Wearing the saffron garments,

Helmets and high boots

With safty lamps on the left hand

And small pickle in the right --

We cut down the hill of darkness

On our travelling ways.

The spirit of supporting peoples

Are always inspired us.

We eat only a handful 'Muri' 

From the hidden sack under our girdle

Whenever feel hungry.

We drink and bathe in the same

Water of the spring.

We are always restless.

Tiredness can't touch us ever

But that time a sound sleep

Come upon our eyes 

Whenever we watch

Our Mentor -- the brother disciple

Take a soft drink from the freeze

Mixed with the fragrance

Of spiritual lecture of our 'Gurudev'.

Wear the rings on his fingers

In form of the full-moon.

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