Chased away by the human bazaars Silence fled into the hills.
Time flows like water slipping Out of the fingers, Seasons like spiders weave Lines in the valleys of the eyes. Drop by drop when I sip the silence of hills, I cannot even excuse my own heart Which pulsates disturbing beats.
I measure the forest with the song of a bird Or with the meandering stream, When saffron flames run amuck like Crowds of sanyasins in the forest, I embrace the bodies of trees and listen To their heartbeats, I cry loudly?
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