After long days of spiritual laxity
I sit at veranda of my house
It is night, cold and drizzling bit
I am blessed
With a meditative mood
As if I feel spark of my real existence
For long I have been internally disturbed
Feeling of dejection, meaninglessness
And dissatisfaction
Which vex me to the core
The pain of remaining peripheral
And inability to touch with my quintessence
But in this moment of ecstasy
I can feel my real existence
Now I can imagine the elation of
Prophetic meditations
In your solitude, if you are drawn
To contemplation of your real existence
And divinity,
Then you are the most blessed with ecstasy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem