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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