Tired and exhausted as I batter life,
you’ve embraced me again with your;
small talks and effervescence.
A piece of great land even loftier
tales, you’ve tied me hard.
When I run far away to escape
the dreary stormier seas.
And embarked on long voyages
to the lands of one Bedouins,
and golden dunes,
I knew I’ll come back
one more time.
A migrant, I’ve no tales
of herculean tragedy
to my name, you see
not every trip is planned
nor every destination
fixed, it was a chance I
stumbled upon few roads
knowing one day I’ll go
back, I walked hesitatingly
meeting few along ,aware
that home is a person we
go back to, my golden
abode is calling, my time
here is running out but
I’ve one more path to
undertake before I call
it a day!
A lone rover wandering in,
In the ancient city of Byzantium
Flying through the narrow lanes
Of colorful bazaars embellished.
With tapestries of doe-eyed hoories
Sweet aroma of brewing Turkish coffee
Lingering in the air, koo hoo of pigeons
In the throbbing kare pazar.
Tall turquoise minarets echoing with
A melodious song of bulbul seated on
Withered old chestnut tree, a song of
Some far off exotic land separated
Over two waters, by the grand range of
The Hindu Kush, the ballad of crystal blue waters
In the lap of mighty snow-covered Himalayas,
A lake flowed down through white clouds
Descended from heavens on whose divine,
Waters exquisite golden swans float,
On the smooth frosty edges Buddhist
Monks meditate for days and nights
Abode of the great lord the mighty
God of wrath and destruction. As the lone
Rover listened to the hymn astonishingly,
Little bulbul, flew across the mighty sea
Rover being a wanderer decided at once
To follow the bird and travel into the distant
Lands, for his quench to travel, is insatiable
And time in the world limited.
