The poet’ art deathlessly lay as waves of bay
His voice is heard ceaselessly night and day,
The nightingale never sings for a reward from man
But fills up the silence of forlorn summer morn.
His voice is heard ceaselessly night and day,
The nightingale never sings for a reward from man
But fills up the silence of forlorn summer morn.
The fame is but the ice on sea that melts in the sun
As if it is the sand where we stand looking at waves
Singing they reach us, the sand remains unseen
Poet’s songs travel from age to age without death.
As if it is the sand where we stand looking at waves
Singing they reach us, the sand remains unseen
Poet’s songs travel from age to age without death.
A true poet is seen sitting in a park with sunshine
Listening the music of rain in the cloudy night
Reading the eyes of the crowd to find true words
We never find him noisy like a child crazy for a reward.
Listening the music of rain in the cloudy night
Reading the eyes of the crowd to find true words
We never find him noisy like a child crazy for a reward.
God as great poet wonder’s our eyes though unseen
But hear his golden voice when a bird sings in spring,
The mystery of the everlasting will to delight the world
Music endless, thoughts new, feelings memorable.
But hear his golden voice when a bird sings in spring,
The mystery of the everlasting will to delight the world
Music endless, thoughts new, feelings memorable.
Composed and copyright: Rajendra K. Padhi
