An Ode To The Fall Poem by Kamal Prashar

There we burn the dreams who stay dead
In this wood of mind with a funeral spread
Alas, do I light this solemnly pyre?
The petals of fallen on that drunken Sire'

‘Cast thy Sins in the whistle that blows
O Man of Leisure where the Ganges flows
Wistful thee stay on a shimmery night
Alas, no thoughts on a deed or its resulting plight?
Or a sin of gold to the peasant of Dark
Or a sin of mud to a Shaft of that Bark?
Or the Moon of Light where the Beaks adore
Shalt thee be vanquished with a Heavenly tore? '

‘O Mother of Sins and Deed stay bold
Me say that homage net yet been told
Shan't thou be seen of a virtue taken?
The Deed stayed Thine and I was shaken
Indeed for a treacherous Globe me stay strong
As the Born stays still, Mate mutes her song'

‘O Man of Leisure where the Ganges flows
Or in the grains of yellow with the deadly crows
A life it was not a perverse game
A man will lose, why a mist of shame?
Ask and shall thee be enlightened
In a spit of hurry maybe a new life brightened
Alas, no slave or king in that book I chose
In a Land stay deep where the Ganges flows'