The Discontent’s Heart


The moon’s solitary, sky’s in itself

I found the heart lonely each time we met;

Hope’s dead, even the stars have set

Just the reek shimmers of this self;


Is this life we call, really ?

This breathing mere, being alive just :

The body lonely on a spirit dumped.

Even with partners avowed

I met on my way 

We trod alone, parted by our self.


Beyond these lights now

Put off and on

This house will rest all alone

Empty, shrivelled and forlorn

In wait endless

Long past I am gone

Glass eyed, yes, but looking on

For the steps absent

On paths overgrown…


Insist why, my dear

For my life’s tale ?

Its weaves are bland

And strands joyless.

* * *

Blistering frenzy would have brough him to these ruins

Else who would light a lamp in storm this booming ?

Speck every must hold his prayers pure

With God must he have each form cured 

Quenching the thirst of burning thorns

Palms loving, the dripping waters hot.

And if he’d find a shining golden rock

Reflect it’d his clear, own broken heart.

Ere the traveller wipes the blood spatters clean

Know, he raised this garden in barrens rocky.

* * *    * * *

Adaptations of poems

written and sung by Meena Kumari.


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