The real condition of Madre Ganges.....
Let us save the lifeline of Hindustan.

If the stars fade out of the sky
and from the forest birds fly off
if dreams do not return to the field of sleep
who would understand your naturalness
and see through your painted mask
You are poet
So all your sins be forgiven.

Hunger you may not overcome
but surely you can touch a heart
even pierce it
You may make a crowned heads shiver
you can play with words
rub them and make them glitter
like a seasoned goldsmith
sick of your poems
you may well burn them
and conceal your failures
You are a poet
So all your sins will be forgiven.

[Courtesy Kabir,http://www.pahal-ngo.org, kabir_khan1989@hotmail.com]

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