Hung have I

In the porch of my bosom

A gentle line-

Sprung from the mating of

Word and feeling

Of an unknown bard-

That might someday

Become a lap of solace

For my blubbers and wails

Swashing abruptly.

Laying myself down in the front yard of the house,

Stared have I at the tranquil sky

Through the tears of the ragged quilt

Covering me tight;

Stuck have I a star

Stolen straight from there,

In the notch of my heart-

That might someday flicker hope

Through the ghastly lane of this life.

Scattered have I in the blowing air

The raw dreams of the dispirited eyes-

That might someday be hatched,

By the warmth of the throbbings of those around,

To spread their wings

To flutter and fly in the sky.

Flung have I the fireballs of my regrets

To the heavenly glade above-

That might rise burning as squibs

Only to come down afresh someday

To lull my blazing spirit.

Stowed have I in my bosom's saucer

A handful of my mother's tears-

That might someday flood away

The foe inside me

That kicks away the heap of debts

And boasts yelling "I..I...I" always.