I touched you with my crude hand
Knowing the filthiness of it’s prejudice.
And now the life which is evolving
Throughout the uncolored horizon,
Nothing could stop it, except
The insipid cup of tea of our dreamy belongings
Which fabricating the sanctitude even more.
Surely hinted by you!
Yet the blue sky spread out a star fair here
Musing for an inexplicable incorporeal goddess.
Hence, I would turned to be a woman again
To see the comedy instead of tragedy!!
chiroharithmanush 