The Baul Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The Baul singing,
Singing and dancing,
Dancing and singing
With the one-stringed instrument,
In saffron loose garments,
Long-haired and ankletted
Dancing and singing
Lost in his spiritual songs
So rapt in devotion

Telling of futility and meaninglessness,
Melancholy and despondence
As nothing remains it here,
Nothing goes it, lives by,
Everything mingles the dust
And maya as a bird grovels into dust,
Nothing is our own here,
The; pathways of life winding,
The soul a traveller, a fugitive.