Bijay Kant Dubey
Maya my house, family, children and the world
I dwell in,
Maya for the house and its things,
Maya for the daughter.
Maya my wife, maya my life,
The soul’s maya for this body
Of clay and dust,
Temporary and transitory.
Maya my wife and the house,
My love for them
Making me possessive of
And digressing me.
And I in the bonds of maya-moha,
Taking for as my own world,
Never to be detached and dissociated from,
But illusion is illusion.
The world of maya I have built,
The cobweb of maya know I that
It is not my own, not my own,
And it is maya, moha which makes one weep
When breaks it the poor heart of man,
But the green parrot will fly away,
Will not remain here caged for so long.
Maya my wife, my son, my daughter
And my world the world of maya
Which but I cannot dispel,
Which but keeps me rolling.
Maya and its philosophy, what to say,
Maya moha, moha maya,
What it is mine, what it yours,
Leave doing mine-yours, yours-mine.
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